Bleeding Eyes
by BagpipeHeadache
Summary: Episode 1: Bleeding Eyes: A madman driven by revenge. A government cover-up. Old secrets come back to haunt Nick, making him and Judy targets, part of a bigger, dastardly plot for the city of Zootopia. If you like Bond villains, I've got you covered! M for blood, violence, and classy smut. (This one is now finished, stay tuned for the sequel!)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The All Seeing

Death holds in orbit around it a morbid fascination, a teasing of the wondering mind. It is the ultimate mystery; all of life known before the final moment remains re-accessible and recorded, but once someone passes over it all seems for naught. Does the story end? Do one's previous deeds still hold sway now that the initiator is no more? Are legacies living entities?

 _Yes_ , Judy thought. Bellwether's actions have made her immortal. She would continue to live through her influence and fear, even as her body lay in a pool of blood at Judy's feet.

A general uneasiness pervaded about the manner in which she was killed: a neat slash across her neck, white wool stained red. According to the prison's logs, Bellwether was being kept in solitary confinement for her own safety; there was concern that other prisoners, or guards for that matter, wouldn't take kindly to her plan to rule through dividing and conquering predators. So far there was no evidence of forced entry, and suicide was ruled out almost immediately due to the absence of any objects that could produce such a neat cut as well as the cleanliness of her hooves.

Soon the forensics team would have some answers. Judy scanned the cell, noting the hazmat suits were draped on animals not too much bigger than her, considering the size of the space. Bellwether's eyes, wide and staring unmoving at the ceiling, were cast in the shadow of a badger who stood by her head, sketchpad and pencil in hand.

Judy's stomach twisted. She'd stared at the lamb's eyes for too long, and she turned away, dry-heaving into her palm and leaning on a bar for support. Everything had hit her all at once. She looked up to see Nick sitting in the empty cell across the hall looking a little green himself.

"You okay there, Carrots?" he asked, giving a shaky chuckle.

After a hard swallow, Judy crossed the hallway and joined the fox in the cell. "Mostly," she said. "I'm just afraid of what this means."

"I hear ya."

There was silence as Judy hopped onto and sat on the bed across from Nick. "I don't know how someone could do this and leave no evidence. Do you think any of the mobs would have the resources? Mr. Big?" She asked.

Nick thought for a moment, taking a deep breath. He shook his head, "It isn't Mr. Big's style. I know of other bosses that are fans of throat-slitting, but I haven't heard of any of them going after someone in prison, though we can't rule that out. And I don't know if any of them had anything against Bellwether directly."

"Aside from a few henchmen getting hit with the Night Howler serum, I think you're right."

Nick chuckled. "Nothing like opening up an old case for my first homicide, eh?"

"Better than starting with parking duty," Judy replied.

Nick had graduated from the academy six months prior to receiving the call about Bellwether's murder this morning. Their celebratory doughnut run with Clawhauser was rudely interrupted. Since then, Judy had lost her appetite.

"I'd say that led to good things though," Nick said, smiling serenely.

"I would have to agree," Judy smiled back. She stretched and ran her hands from her head down her ears. "I guess we should see if forensics has found anyth-"

"Officers Hopps and Wilde?" Came the voice of a deer. His antlered head was exposed as the hood of his hazmat suit was pulled back. He held an envelope in a plastic bag.

"Yes?" Nick asked, standing.

"This was discovered on Bellwether's body. It's addressed to the two o' you." The buck's accent was thick, obviously a stag from across the Eastern Sea.

Nick gingerly took the bag. The envelope inside had a small spattering of red across it. "Mmm," he said sarcastically, "delicious."

"Are we good to open it?" Judy asked, nose twitching. There was a peculiar scent to the deer. It was obvious he was a smoker, but the tobacco's signature was unique, almost spicy.

"Aye, the team's 'ad a good look at it. Logged it and all that; shouldn't be any trouble. Anywho, back to work I go." The buck said with a click of his hooves.

Nick retrieved the envelope, still using his fingertips. It wasn't sealed, so he carefully unfolded the piece of paper. Judy could see it was surprisingly thick and high-quality, qualifying as stationery rather than simple paper.

She noticed Nick's ears flatten as he read whatever was written. "Nick?"

"Have a look," the fox said.

The paper was clean apart from two words typed in the exact center, the folding lines crossing over the letters like crosshairs. "Step one," Judy read. She looked back up at Nick, who was wringing his paws.

"This isn't right…I haven't seen this kind of thing since my hustling days, and it was poorly done at best," Nick said, "It's meant to screw with your mark. Let the target know you're onto them and watching them, and then turn them into your puppet."

"That sounds…so you mean to tell me that we're already being watched?" She asked, replacing the strange letter and envelope into the plastic evidence bag.

"Yes or no," Nick said, scratching behind his ear. "It could either be simply to screw with us and point us in the wrong direction, or it's the thing I said before."

Judy couldn't help but huff a frustrated breath. There was no way to establish a pattern this early, and it seemed wrong to let one form if more animals were to get hurt or be killed. But what was the motive? Why kill the one that set the bigotry in motion, who so successfully divided a city overnight? Even after the plot was revealed and the arrests made, there still existed a large, and often violent, prejudice against predators.

Suddenly, her phone vibrated. Half expecting it to be a text from Clawhauser, the unfamiliar number drew her face into a frown.

 _Don't worry._

She was about to comment on it when Nick's phone gave a small trumpeting noise, his notification sound. All the color seemed to drain from his face as he read. "You two aren't next on my list."

A coldness washed through Judy's chest. "So what was that you said earlier? About making your mark your puppet?"

"…Shit," Nick swore as their eyes met.

"Should we go to Bogo with this? Maybe they can track the number," Judy said. Almost immediately her phone vibrated.

 _I wouldn't if I were you._

"Son of a biscuit."

Nick stepped out into the hallway, eyes darting around. Judy followed, scanning the animals milling about in their hazmat suits. Only one of them was on their phone, but she was having an animated conversation with someone at the station. There were four cameras she could locate in the ceiling corners of the hallway, all of them with blinking red lights next to their glossy lenses. Their phones received another text.

 _I have eyes and ears everywhere, it won't be that easy._

"Well it obviously isn't someone here," Nick said, looking down at his phone.

Judy rubbed her palms over her face a couple times, giving herself time to try and comprehend the situation. It didn't help. "If we tell Bogo, bad things will happen. If we don't tell Bogo, bad things will happen. I don't know what to do."

"This is exactly the kind of thing they try to pull," Nick said, then swore. "Either way, it's dangerous for everyone. I say we try and do the right thing if both outcomes are going to be the same."

Judy raised an eyebrow playfully. "That's a pretty solid argument coming from the hustler."

"Ex-hustler," Nick corrected her.

Judy just smiled, then it fell. "But what if letting him have his way results in less animals being affected? Like, what if he'd be less inclined to do collateral damage to get in our way?"

"We have no way of knowing. And what makes you think it's a he?"

"I…w-well…" Judy gave the ground a sidelong glance. "There's no direct evidence for it, but I just have a hard time imagining a woman being so…malevolent."

Nick's mouth opened with a smacking noise. "There are lots of women like that, you just haven't met any of them," he said flatly, eyelids heavy.

"Have you?"

"Too many."

"Oh…" Judy replied, clasping her paws in front of her. She felt sorry for the fox in that moment, the intensity of the emotion somewhat puzzling.

"We have to tell Bogo," Nick said, starting down the hallway.

"Wait what?!" Judy scrambled after him. "You heard the text guy, really bad things will happen if we do that!"

"Bad things will happen either way. Indecision is exactly what he wants; he wants us to be hopelessly lost trying to figure out what to do so he can manipulate us more easily. Never let them see that they're getting to us."

The walk back to the cruiser was short. There were only two other police vehicles in the parking lot: a cruiser that McHorn and Delgato drove over in, and the van that carried the forensics team. That being said, there was a large group of animals crowded around the entrance to the prison, mostly reporters, their crew, and various vans from numerous news stations.

Judy grimaced; since the Nighthowler incident, she'd shied away from the press as much as she possibly could. She couldn't stand the way they manipulated facts and words to present an overly dramatized version of what was reality. Thankfully, Nick seemed to be able to handle them much better, taking to ignoring them completely and shoving through their squawking hordes before they had a chance to get an answer to any of their questions. Judy could almost hide within the bushel of his tail.

When they made it to the cruiser, with some of the reporters knocking on Judy's passenger window, Nick got on the radio.

"Clawhauser, this is officers Wilde and Hopps, we've determined the crime scene no longer requires our presence, McHorn and Delgato have it covered so we're on our way back to the station. We have some things to discuss with the chief."

"Copy that, doughnuts still uneaten from this morning, see you two soon," came the cheetah's reply in a professionally mocking tone. Nick and Judy both chuckled at his reply as they pulled out of the parking lot, Nick donning his aviators as he signaled to turn onto the freeway ramp.

Just then Judy's phone vibrated. Her chest went cold at the words.

 _Bad move._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: A Smoke and a Fritter

Claws twisted scented smoke as the tendrils danced across the mahogany desk. A single lamp softly bathed the room the color of red wine, illuminating the dark space's single, stark-white occupant. He sighed with annoyance, then his lips curled into a smile.

"I admire this one," he said, seemingly to no one. The phone screen on the desk in front of him displayed a single reply: _Justice will be served!_ Oh, bunny cop. He dialed a number, and his headset rang in his ear.

" _Yes sir_?" A male voice on the other end asked.

The white one took a long breath through his nose before speaking. "Fey, do you know why I hired you?"

There was a pause. " _B…because I've shot a fly on a string through the eye at nine hundred yards, sir_?"

"Precisely. However annoying the present circumstances are, the plans are still set to go through. I need to make sure it all goes smoothly though, so I want you to use those fantastic skills to hurt a certain…small list of individuals. I'm sure you know who."

" _They're hard to miss, sir. Pun intended._ "

A single, amused _hmph_ was the answer. "I need them out of the way but alive. For now."

" _Yes sir_. _Shall I rope in Asha?_ "

There was a pause as he considered the option. "Yes. Yes actually, I like the way you think."

" _Thank you, sir._ "

The red-bathed one ended the call, and absent-mindedly wiped his eyes with a crimson-stained rag. He chuckled. "This is what you get for disobeying."

…..

The drive back to the station was pretty average. Of course, every car they came up behind decided that doing five miles per hour under the speed limit was necessary, no matter the lane. It was as if everyone thought the two were out to arrest them. But that wasn't Nick and Judy's precinct; the highway patrol was in charge of dealing out tickets to those who broke the laws of the road. Nick and Finnick had encountered them more than a few times…

Judy was quiet the entire way as well. Nick snuck many glances in her direction, and each time she seemed to be deep in thought, staring out of either the windscreen or her passenger window, knees tucked up to her chest or legs crossed. It wasn't the sheer silence that was worrisome, it was the small doses of adrenaline that her body put into the air for Nick's nose to pick up. Her heartrate was elevated the entire time, probably in response to whatever was happening between those adorably huge ears of hers. If Judy was worried, Nick was worried, albeit he maintained an exterior of indifference.

"Hey, you alright?" Nick asked as he put the cruiser in park in their designated space.

"I…I think so," Judy said, still not meeting his eyes. "I got a text from our mysterious friend right when we left and it's got me worried."

"What did it say?"

"Just 'bad move.'"

"Hmm…" Nick hid his true feelings, which consisted of apprehension and light panic. "Well, we're at the station, which is probably the safest place it's possible to be at a moment like this." He added an easy smile.

This seemed to reassure the bunny, for her lips simpered. "You're probably right. I shouldn't let it get to me too much."

"Exactly," Nick said, exiting the car and grabbing his jacket. "Feeling like a doughnut yet? This morning was a bit of a letdown."

"That might help," Judy responded, the smile growing. Seeing the pressure come off her shoulders put Nick's mind at ease. Ever since he graduated from the ZPD academy, the former hustler discovered that helping others did more for him than any selfish actions taken before. And the small moments wherein he could make someone else feel better emotionally or mentally, even if there was nothing physically wrong with them, were the ones he cherished most. Especially when he could make Judy smile.

They ascended the steps together, a much more comfortable silence pervading until Nick broke it while he opened the door. "Officer Hopps," he said, sweeping an arm and bowing to let her through. She huffed and narrowed her eyes at him, but went through anyway.

"You just want to peek at my tail," she said with a knowing smirk.

"I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a highlight of my days," Nick responded while, indeed, letting his eyes run over the rabbit's rear. She was letting him look, after all, why miss the opportunity? As if reading his mind, her tail twitched as she walked.

"Nick, the door's still open," Judy said, stifling a giggle as Wolford walked through.

"Well thank you my good sir!" The grey lupine said with a sarcastic salute.

"No problem!" Nick said, trying to hide his embarrassment. He finally closed the door and strode into the main foyer with Judy.

The station was bustling as always; a few perps being led to various areas of the building, some struggling and some calm, civilians here and there, and technicians and records workers coming up for air and a chat around the coffee machines in the far corners. Nick always felt a sense of awe inside the station, especially where one could see the ceiling so high above them, where even the shortest doorways were easily crossed through by elephants.

"Hey you two," Cooed Clawhauser as they approached the front desk, "what's shakin' mah honies? Anything new about this morning's call?"

"Not much," Nick said, folding his aviators and hanging them off his breast pocket, "We were going to have a meeting with Bogo, if he could stand to have us, about some of the…details."

"Ooh," the cheetah said, leaning forward on his elbows, tail twitching over his shoulder, "I _am_ a sucker for secret details. Am I allowed to know these or should I wait and just find out later?"

Nick looked to Judy, who glanced up at Clawhauser. "I'm…not sure, really."

"Like he says, he'll know eventually," Nick said. He opened one of three bright pink doughnut boxes on the desk beside the cheetah, fishing for an apple fritter. "The victim was our old friend Bellwether, throat slit, no evidence so far as to whether or not someone did it to her or if she was responsible. Lots of blood, no weapon, and a mysterious letter addressed to Carrots and I with 'Step one' written in the middle." He took a large bite out of a fritter he'd managed to find, then looked expectantly at Judy.

"And then there's the texts…" She began.

Clawhauser's eyes widened even further. "Texts? From who?"

"We don't know; there's no number or name but they seem to know everything we're doing, even before we do it."

There was a long pause as Nick chewed and Benjamin sat in a vat of shock.

"I'll get you to Bogo's office then…" Clawhauser said as he slowly reached over to push a button on the electrical box adjacent the microphone. "Chief, I hope you're free 'cause Hopps and Wilde have a doozy for you."

There was a sigh as Bogo hit the button on his end. "Send them in."

"He sounds like he's in a fantastic mood," Judy muttered.

"Let's go improve it, shall we?" Nick said before tearing another piece off the fritter with his teeth.

"Thanks Benji," Judy said as she followed Nick to the elevators. The big cat waved in return, already starting to eat something else.

"What do you think's eating at Bogo?" Judy asked from behind Nick.

"Hmm?" Nick responded, mouth still full.

"It sounded like Bogo wasn't in a good mood…"

Nick swallowed. "Is he ever?"

"I'd say he's kind of neutral most of the time."

"I guess so. Fritter?" Nick said, offering the large, glazed pastry as the elevator doors closed.

"Thanks." Judy took one of the knobbles and chewed quietly.

The doors opened to reveal the third floor, with its patterned carpets and clean wall lined with mostly shuttered windows and doors with way too many insignia ranks on them. Clawhauser's voice faintly floated up from their left side over the railing, the acoustics of the building muddling the sounds of activity all the way up here.

Bogo's office was the third one down. Judy raised a paw and rapped lightly.

"Enter," came the buffalo's voice after just two knocks. The two followed his command and found the chief sitting at his desk with its usual two organized mounds of papers on either side of him. What was unusual was the absence of any light from the overhead fixtures and the presence of a fog-like, scented smoke. "Close the door please."

Nick did just that, watching Bogo's face light up with a reddish-orange glow produced by a tobacco pipe. "I didn't know you smoked, Chief," Nick said, taking a seat in the darkened room.

"It helps me think."

"Ah."

Bogo puffed a few times, then sighed. "I understand you have something for me?"

Judy produced the plastic bag containing the blood-spattered envelope and strange letter, placing it on Bogo's desk. "All it says is 'Step one.' We're not sure what it means."

Bogo raised an eyebrow, so Nick perked up. "We've also been getting texts that…well…are a little spooky. We don't know where or who they're from, but they certainly know everything about us. Think you could track something like that?"

Inexplicably, Chief Bogo remained silent for an uncomfortably long amount of time, gave a hissing sigh, then stood to gaze out of his window, the shutters down but open. Nick shot Judy a concerned look, then took another bite of the fritter.

"This isn't good. I've received a small number of ominous warnings and death threats over the last couple days. I think we're dealing with something quite a lot bigger than any of us are aware of." He turned to face the two sharing a chair. "Have the texts been directed at the two of you specifically?"

Nick's mouth was still full, so he turned to Judy. "So far, sir, yes. I mean, that's what we can tell. I'd be willing to bet whoever it is can access any phone or computer he wants." She pulled out her phone. "One of his texts said 'I have eyes and ears everywhere', and I'm pretty sure he'd tapped the prison's security cameras and was watching us in real-time."

"That's why I'm trying to make it seem like I'm not here," Bogo said.

"Have you been getting mysterious messages on your phone too?" Nick asked, having down the last of the fritter.

"Yes. I received another one just before you two got to the station urging me to…'keep my best officers out of this case,'" he said, using air quotes.

"Wow," Judy muttered, her tone more fearful and incredulous than annoyed.

"Sounds like someone has it in for us, huh?" Nick remarked.

"I suspect it's because of your involvement in the Night Howler case as well as your publicity," Bogo said, puffing thoughtfully. "I'm putting you two on paid administrative leave for a week while we do some digging."

"What?!" Judy exclaimed, hopping to her feet. "Why are you shutting us out of this, sir?"

"It's for your own safety, Hopps," Bogo said, walking over to gingerly set his pipe down on his desk. "The papers have already been sent in, and there are already witness protection agents being stationed around each of your apartments. You'll be safe and paid in full, I just don't need your or Wilde's blood on my hands."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Tick-Tock

Nick was numb. The muffled chaos swirled around him as his eyes swept over what remained of the ZPD Police Station. Wild, incandescent flashes cast shadows as wires sparked and swung, water pipes in the walls spilling their liquid onto the floor as if bleeding, papers falling as feathers from an impacted bird. The shouts didn't reach his keen ears, the images dancing across his vision taking no hold on reality. Smoke billowed and created more shadows as other officers scampered in the confusion, their halting visages cast on the walls with each intermittent flash of jittering energy from the ruined electricals. The screams. The shouts. The whines and moans.

Then his gaze came to rest on the mangled body of a rabbit dressed in blue. The smell of blood prickled the fur on the back of his neck. Her eyes were wide but unseeing, tracing patterns in the ceiling with no discernable direction. Out of her nose, mouth, and ears trickled streams of crimson.

 _Judy_. "Ju…" He stammered. _Judy. Judy!_ "Judy! Carrots!" He finally managed, reality rushing back to him. He sprinted forward, dodging piles of rubble and splintered wood, maneuvering around stumbling officers and civilians. She seemed not to hear him.

Nick's chest was frozen on the inside. He found himself gasping for air as unabashed terror and anxiety squeezed his lungs.

What had he done?

"Judy!" He said, finally reaching her.

She blinked a few times and frowned, seeming to search for him even though he was right beside her. "N-nick? Nick I-I," She began. Whatever she intended to say devolved into a shaky whimper as she reached for him.

"Shhh, it's okay Carrots, I'm here," Nick said, frantically scanning her shredded form. He took her left paw in his own, for her right simply didn't exist anymore. Her sleeve and arm were lacerated up to her elbow, and he was unable to discern ribbons of flesh from strands of uniform. Acting quickly, he removed his tie and wrapped in around her stump mid-bicep, tying it as tight as he felt the fabric could withstand to stop as much bleeding as he could.

Another weep drew his attention. Judy's eyes had welled up, and bloody tears streamed back toward the tile of the station floor. "Nick…make it stop. It…it hurts." She began to convulse, the sight of fresh blood trickling out of her mouth threatening to overwhelm him with panic.

"I need a doctor! Paramedic?! Are there any paramedics?!" Nick shouted, hurriedly scanning his surroundings.

No one seemed to hear him. An officer he recognized as Wolford stumbled by in the distance, holding something that resembled his own arm as one side of his jaw hung slack, the flesh torn to shreds. The doorway to the bullpen, just to Nick's left, revealed a scene of devastation and gore. Body parts mixed with general carnage, calls and shouts, some screaming for their mothers or loved ones, the blood of thirty or more officers mixing with one another.

Judy's ragged breathing caught his attention again. He then noticed that her right foot was also gone. And her ankle. And her knee.

 _Her femoral artery!_

Judy was dying, bleeding out before his eyes. Her one remaining paw grabbed his sleeve like a vice.

"Don't let me go alone, Nick," She said, fresh crimson tears staining her cheeks. "Stay with me."

"I've gotcha," Nick said, swiftly undoing his belt and looping it around what remained of her leg, his gun, radio, and tranquilizer dropping to the floor, "I'm staying right here." The leather groaned as he drew it as taut as he dared before he pulled Judy onto his lap. She yelped as he moved her, clamping her eyes against the pain he knew she was suffering through.

"Shhh…" he said. He stroked her ears as she buried her face in his neck, weeping sanguine tears and trembling. "I'm here, I'm here."

Long minutes passed, the two stoic and quiet in the swirling cloud of disarray and yells. Judy's breathing became weaker and weaker, and Nick felt a lump form in his throat as the realization hit him. She really was dying. She would be gone in a very short time, possibly minutes. Nick couldn't think of anything to say. All of his sly remarks and tricky conversational skills were stunned into silence, his mind unable to articulate his feelings into something he could give to her before her life ebbed away.

 _Fuck it._

He stood with her draped across his arms, still holding her head next to his, and made towards the shattered glass doors of the front entrance. If there was anyone who could help her, they would either be on scene already, or may arrive in time to save her. If not, she would get one last look at the city she came to love so much.

Clawhauser wasn't at the front desk, and he hadn't seen Chief Bogo since before the bomb (or was it bombs?) went off. Delgado and Fangmeyer sprinted past the two towards the epicenter, their squad car parked out front, its lights flashing brilliantly. Civilians who had been in the main foyer were helping each other up and dusting off, some content to watch events unfold, some following other officers into the fray to provide assistance.

Finally the sun's warmth graced Nick with its gentle kiss. Seeing the surrounding buildings cast in the light of the setting celestial body, the crowds approaching with horror on their faces, and hearing the thundering approach of helicopters and the sound of ambulances and fire crews in the distance, Nick's wall came crashing down. He collapsed, unable to keep the violent sobs from wracking his frame. He cradled Judy's head while he rocked, unable to let her go. He musn't let her go. She had been there when no one else had. Without her, he was truly alone again; no one had seen as much of the real him as she had and appreciated it. No one had shown him life as it could be, rather than how it appeared.

No one had stolen his heart like she had.

As if on cue, her eyes opened weakly. Those huge, brilliant violet eyes, staring straight into his. Without waiting, without even a thought or care given to the gathering civilian audience, he pressed his lips to hers.

The world fell silent for a few blissful seconds, peace dropping over him like a freshly washed sheet tossed onto his head by his mother. He could only see Judy, feel her warmth, smell the shampoo she used that morning. For a brief moment, everything was alright again. Something twisted and shattered inside him. She shuddered under him, and he felt her paw on his cheek. It worked its way up to cup the base of his ear.

He pulled away, serenity washing through him. He put on a brave face, gracing her with his easy-going smile one last time.

"Nick…I-"

"Shhh…" he said, gently placing a finger to her lips, "You don't need to say anything."

She smiled even as her eyes filled with tears. "Thank you, Nick. This was…perfect."

He mirrored her expression, fighting against the pull of grief in his throat.

She coughed meekly, pressing into his neck once again as her shaky breathing abated, her body relaxing. Her hand dropped away from his ear slowly, and he softly held it, feeling her grip loosen. Another sob shuddered through him as he continued to gently rock, the sun setting behind the tall buildings.

It was all his fault.

OOO

The warmth of the water did little to alleviate his trembling. The spigot of the hospital shower in which he sat still had on it the wispy remains of blood from when he turned it. There was more crimson in the water that snaked its way to the drain, having washed off of him. He hadn't realized how much of it he'd been exposed to while cradling Judy.

 _Judy._

His eyes grew hot again, but his tears were lost in the rest of the water that streamed down his face. His hands were still stained. No matter how much washing and rubbing them together he'd done, her essence still remained. He swore to himself.

"Yo Nick…I brought your clothes and stuff. How ya holdin' up?" Came Finnick's voice.

"Thank you…Finnick. Just leave them somewhere, I'll find them."

"Sure thing. You sure you don't wanna talk about anything?"

Nick smiled to himself; he knew he could always count on Finnick's support. "I'll be alright. You're a good friend."

"You know where to find me," Finnick replied.

Nick heard the patter of his tiny paws as the door opened and closed. After a deep breath, he decided to resume his scrubbing. He rose from the bench he had been occupying, obviously meant for animals not able to stand and shower, and got to work. Sitting there and wallowing in a seething cauldron of emotions wasn't getting him anywhere. Judy would disapprove of his lack of motivation.

Half an hour later, Nick was seated in a waiting room chair, his tail flicking absent-mindedly. The walls were beige and the carpets patterned and worn. There were two round clocks within sight, each reading 12:18 AM. Most of the other animals whom he had seen when he stopped by earlier were gone, echoes of their distressed wailing and silent crying leaving the now-empty room uncomfortably still and silent. Judy, Bogo, Wolford, Francine, and three newer cops were in surgery, their respective families and loved ones making up the former spectacle in the waiting room. Now only Nick remained, each second dragging on longer than the orbit of Pluto, no updates about Judy or any other officers whatsoever.

A pig dressed in turquoise scrubs with a pair of glasses resting on the end of her snout was the only hospital staff behind the raised desk across from him. She endlessly clacked away on the computer in front of her, only taking a break when the ringing of the phone beside her shattered the quietness. Such was the night shift.

Nick sighed; he should have had Finnick pick him up a couple books or his laptop and some DVD's or something. Anything to take his mind off Judy and the unbearable wait, the unending dread. He took out his phone out of habit, and immediately regretted doing so. As he opened it, the last thing he had open was what had set the entire series of events in motion. It was a text from that mysterious number. He stared at the words, remembering the day earlier…

…

"A week is way too long," Judy said as she strode through the doors to the station, "But it's _so_ great to be back!"

Nick smiled at her, the picture of cheer, somehow still full of energy after a day of patrols and minor disturbances. The period of paid leave had been full of trips to the gym, late night movies and sleep-overs, playfully stalking their fellow officers while they made their routes, and many other endearing adventures, most notable being sailing lessons. The pair found that they had a knack for naturally reading the winds and currents, and Judy's deft feet had kept them from disaster more than a few times, her nimbleness allowing her to change settings in the rigging much faster than Nick. The fox's sense of direction and keen eyes and nose told him everything about the wind, so he was content to direct from the tiller. It was liberating, to say the least, just the two of them on the endless sea, Zootopia's bustle and noise tucked away on the edge of the horizon. Peace, at last.

"Evening Clawhauser!" Judy said, almost singing. Their favorite front desk cat hadn't been there that morning, the late shift raccoon staying longer to cover the cat, who cited car trouble.

The cheetah looked up from some papers he was straightening, and immediately beamed at the two. "Well someone's springier than a box of crickets! How was the week off?"

"Too much to cram into our usual five minute preparation for the bullpen," Nick said with a friendly grin. "We'll have to fill you in over drinks or something, but Carrots here would make quite the pirate."

"Yes, Captain Redbeard," Judy chided, "I was half-betting you'd get seasick, but I was proven wrong." Nick winked in response.

"Anything big happen around here?" Nick asked, turning to Clawhauser and putting an arm onto the counter.

"Nope, just the usual. Perps in, paperwork out."

"Sounds like an absolute bla-" Judy began, but was cut off as the box on Clawhauser's desk crackled to life, Chief Bogo's voice thundering through.

"Are they here yet, Clawhauser?"

The cheetah's paws immediately covered his mouth. "I totally forgot to tell him! He wanted to know as soon as you two walked through the front door," He grabbed the microphone, "Uh yes, sir, they just walked in."

"Send them up," was the only response.

Judy and Nick shared a glance and a shrug, noting the fatigue present in the buffalo's tone.

"See you later. Drinks, yea?" Nick asked, pointing to Clawhauser.

"Absolutely! Good luck you two…"

Soon the duo stood in front of the chief's always intimidating door. Intimidating both for its size, and for the conversations and implications that lay behind it. Judy knocked first.

"Enter," Came Bogo's voice.

The two did just that, and shared a seat across the desk from the chief, who had his glasses on the end of his nose, which was buried in a very thick case file. It was a moment before he sighed and removed his glasses.

"Nothing. We've got zip. No more mysterious texts have come in, and our researchers haven't found anything," he said, leaning forward and clasping his hooves.

Relief, tainted with a bit of confused unease blossomed in Nick. Criminals with this many connections and this kind of power didn't simply drop off the map. Perhaps it was a prank after all? But no…there was still the matter of Bellwether's death to contend with. The whole situation just seemed…off.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the same emotions playing out in Judy's body language. Her ears had relaxed, but she was giving the floor a sidelong glance.

"I assume your week off was uneventful?" Bogo asked, eyeing the two of them.

"As far as the case goes, completely. No texts or stalkers of any kind." Nick replied.

"Hmm," Bogo leaned back, his chair creaking. "I suppose we'll resume the investigation into Bellwether's murder then, and if this mysterious third party rears its ugly head again, we'll be ready."

"Has tech been working on some new devices?" Judy asked.

"They have, actually. A better system for triangulating cell phone signals without needing the targeted phone to be making a phone call in fact. The texting has inspired this, obviously," he said.

"I don't suppose forensics has made any headway on the letter we found on Bellwether's body?" Judy asked.

"Letter?" Bogo inquired, squinting and leaning forward slightly.

"The first ominous warning we found," Nick picked up, "the one that said 'step one.'"

"I haven't heard anything about it…perhaps it didn't go through," Bogo said, opening a drawer full of files. After leafing through a few, he pulled a thin manila folder out and began flipping through it. "Hmm…it isn't listed as evidence anywhere here."

Nick shared a glance with Judy. "What if they just didn't see it when they hauled it all down to the labs?" Nick posited. "An envelope can be easily missed."

"It's possible. How about you go and have a look right now, see if you can find it in the jungle we call the 'evidence room?' Officer Hopps, I'm late for the evening bullpen meeting," Bogo said, rising from his chair.

"Uh, sure," Nick said, also standing.

"Meet us down there and I'll give you two the newest developments in the Bellwether case. C'mon Hopps," he said, opening the door and letting the two smaller mammals walk through.

The evidence room, or "The Bin", as it was affectionately known, was straight down a hallway to the rear of Clawhauser's front desk. If angled properly, one could see a couple of the front doors from the end of the hallway where the threshold stood.

Nick fished for a card he almost never used, one that let him into parts of the ZPD reserved for officials and officers, like where evidence was stored for processing. He swiped it, and the console on the wall _booped_ , flashing his name on a small light bar, along with a "Welcome." Inside, the evidence room was mostly grey, the collection of bins and boxes illuminated on their drab, metal pipe shelving by buzzing fluorescent lights on the concrete ceiling. The walls and floor were of the same dark building material. No civilians would, in theory, never see this room, so no expense was wasted in making it pretty.

Bogo had given him the organizational code needed to find evidence tied to the Bellwether case before Nick had taken the elevator down. It was full, so Bogo and Judy would catch the next one.

"UK-2641…2641…" Nick repeated to himself under his breath. There it was. A plastic bin that appeared empty, but, upon further inspection, revealed the envelope pressed against the inner wall. Putting the box back on its shelf, he was about to leave when his phone trumpeted. Confused as to who would be texting him this late in the evening, he opened it.

" _Tick-tock."_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Reciprocity

"…Mr. Wilde? Sir?" Came the voice again. Nick suddenly realized where he was, and he sprang awake, un-folding himself from the chair and smoothing out his Hawaiian shirt and tie. He turned to the otter before him, who was wearing a white lab coat, underneath which was framed a brown waistcoat and black tie.

"Sorry, yes?" He asked, still slightly groggy. How long had he dozed? He stood out of respect.

"I'm Dr. Otterton, the head surgeon who oversaw the operation on Miss Hopps as she was our most serious case," he said, offering his paw.

Nick shook it. "Pleasure, and thank you for all your good work."

"Don't mention it," Otterton said, then cleared his throat. "You're listed as one of the contacts on Miss Hopps' file, and we know you two are partners on the force, so you deserve to be the first to know."

This was the moment he had been dreading. Right now would either break him, or let him continue on with only a small nugget of guilt in his heart for having set off the bomb. His throat closed, he couldn't speak. He could feel pressure already building behind his eyes, yet unborn tears threatening to spill over.

The otter referenced his clipboard, flipping a page over the top of it. "She is stable, but as of right now, she is in a medically-induced coma. The paramedics tell me that, with the amount of blood she's lost, she wouldn't have made it if it weren't for your efforts. I concur, you should congratulate yourself."

Nick's legs gave out, and he found himself almost slipping out of the chair, hands white-knuckled on the arms. He hadn't killed her.

"Unfortunately," the otter began again, "we had to amputate her right arm above her elbow, and her leg above her knee. She had a multitude of shrapnel wounds, some of which macerated her lung, and may have damaged her eye. There's extensive soft-tissue damage around the ocular socket, chest cavity, and abdomen. She…she may never be the same."

Any glimmer of hope Nick may have had was immediately wiped away and replaced with a tsunami of guilt. He felt sick, his insides constricting as remorse crushed him in a giant, unseen fist.

"Mr. Wilde," Dr. Otterton said softly, placing a paw on Nick's shoulder, "You should know that you're the only reason she's alive right now. If you hadn't performed as you had, the paramedics never would have seen to her in time, and we would have lost her. She's a hero to my family and me."

Nick met his eyes, his expression blank. He was holding back with everything he had. "You said your name was Otterton, right? Are you related to Emmitt Otterton?"

"He's my brother. What you did for us, and subsequently the rest of Zootopia cannot be repaid. I will do my part to show my gratitude by paying for any prosthetics Judy needs so she may continue her work on the force." His smile was sincere, and there was the wisp of past hardships hidden behind it.

"I…I don't know what to say," Nick began. Without warning, his already crumbled emotional walls let the flood through, and he collapsed into a heap, his sobbing out of his control. He covered his face in shame, both at himself for weeping helplessly in front of the doctor that saved Judy's life, as well as the fact that he put her there in the first place. He felt a paw on his arm again, offering as much comfort as a stranger could.

"I know how much you two mean to one another," came Dr. Otterton's voice, "the paramedics told me that she kept muttering your name whenever she was conscious. I think it would be best for you to be there for her when she wakes up. And, actually, while she's in the coma. The parts of the brain that process auditory input are still active even during a coma, so your words may get through and help her recover."

It took a few good, deep breaths for Nick to get himself under control again. He wiped his eyes with both palms, then blew his nose with a tissue from a nearby box. He sat up, still unable to meet the otter's eyes. Nick opened his mouth, but no words came out, just the beginnings of sounds, and he turned his palms up in an indication of loss of direction.

"We can set up a cot in her room if that would be agreeable," Dr. Otterton said, as if reading his lack of proclivity.

"Thank you," Nick managed to croak. He stood with the doctor's help. "Any…any word on the others?"

"Ah yes," the clipboard was consulted again, "Bogo and Francine will be sent home in a few days, but we're watching them to make sure nothing develops. Wolford, I'm afraid, will require extensive care, but should also recover. Grizzoli, Higgins, Greyford, and McWhirter all passed away from their injuries, unfortunately. Redford survived, and the rest are dispersed around various hospitals in the area."

Nick could only nod silently. The numbness was coming on again, providing some relief from the raging torrent. He would feel every one of the deaths later, he knew. But for now, he was content to follow the doctor through the hospital, carrying his uniform in a sealed plastic bag that was still soaked with Judy's blood.

The hospital was a maze. Nick lost count of the corridors they walked down in silence, confusing his sense of direction further by riding two separate elevators with doors on two sides. Patterned carpets, beige walls, potted plants, tile, crisp white lighting, desks, nurses and other staff bustling by, some fresh-faced and some with drawn, tired faces. It all meshed together for what seemed to be an eternity, until he was led past a desk manned by various nurses, most of them glancing at him like he shouldn't be in the area. Beyond the looks was a hallway with rooms lining both sides. They came to a halt at the third door to the left.

"We keep our most serious patients close by so that we can respond if they, say, go into cardiac arrest during the night or something of that nature," the Otter said matter-of-factly as he held an I.D card up to a grey box beside the door handle. The lock audibly disengaged with a _clunk_ , and the doctor led Nick into the dimly-lit room.

Nick's breath caught in his throat. The room was quite spacious, meant to handle animals much larger than the rabbit in the bed that jutted out from the right wall. Screens and monitors flashed and projected information, surrounding her with a small army of electrical boxes. Wires crisscrossed behind her bed, a good number attached to her in some way. A bag with clear fluid hung from a stand to her left, the needle taped down in her forearm. Two light blue, ribbed tubes descended from a machine above her head, converging in front of her into a thinner tube that protruded from her mouth. Another, much smaller diameter tube ran adjacent to it. The right half of her face was bandaged, and the remnants of her right arm and leg protruded from beneath the thin hospital blankets, wrapped in gauze, blood seeping through in areas. Her chest lightly rose and fell with the hissing and wheezing of an accordion-like cylinder contained in the machine behind her bed.

But she was still alive. She was still here. Nick walked unsteadily to the side of her bed and leaned on the railing, squeezing her hand. "Hey there…Carrots," he began, "we made it. You're going to be alright." He stroked her paw with his thumb. "I…don't really know what else to say; I'm just glad…so glad you aren't gone. I need you more than I thought I did."

As he spoke, Dr. Otterton checked the monitors and machines, nodding in a satisfactory manner. "All her vitals look good. She should be awake in a few days." He traded a smile with Nick, then checked his watch, his shoulders slumping. "It's five in the morning…so if you don't mind, I'll bid you adieu. I've called for a cot and bedding, should be here momentarily. Good morning, Mr. Wilde." With that, Dr. Otterton left.

…

The pronghorn's eyes darted around the unfamiliar room. Everything was bathed in a dull red light, as if someone was shining a spotlight through a giant ruby. Tapestries of different sizes and designs adorned the walls, and patterned carpet supported the chair that he was bound to. A single, wooden desk stood in the exact center of the room, a shirtless creature sitting in front of it, his back to the pronghorn. Scars traced across the entity's back like a cruel map of roads and rivers, and his shoulders hunched. He sat unmoving apart from his breathing. His skin, or scaled hide, was white.

And his _head_ ; his brain was held in a fist that squeezed in time with his heartbeat. Jeremy twisted at his bindings, which were a mix of rope and another material that he couldn't place, but it creaked and groaned. To his horror, the albino creature's head perked up immediately, twisting its long neck to peer over its shoulder at him with one, dark-ringed eye.

"You're conscious," it said, voice gravely, each syllable drawn out, "good." Its clawed hands grasped the arms of its chair and rose to its full height. Its heavy footfalls were accentuated by the clacking of its equally clawed feet, and its true proportions became obvious as it stopped just short of Jeremy. A lithe, forked tongue slid from between its elongated jaws and flicked up and down before disappearing again.

"Wh…what are you? Why am I here?" Jeremy asked, panic rising in his belly. "What the _hell_ do you want from me?"

"Oh, it's not what I want _from_ you," the creature said, bearing its sharp teeth in a horrific, scarred grin, "I just want to use you as a tool to let your father feel some of the pain he caused me."

"Wh-what?! You don't know my father!" The pronghorn spat, "He manages a goddam grocery store!" A rumbling chuckle escaped the creature just before him, a sound that dropped his heart like a stone down a well.

"That's what you know him as _now_. Has he never told you?"

"T-told me?"

The beast raised its left arm, revealing a deep horizontal scar along its ribcage. "He gave me this scar, right after he finished killing one of my elders. Do you know of your father's military career?"

Jeremy's father had never said anything about being in the military. Not even while drunk. No medals or commendations could be seen framed anywhere in the house, and any of Jeremy's attic snooping escapades in his youth had been completely unfruitful.

As if reading the inner turmoil and denial within the young pronghorn, the creature asked, "Do you know _why_ he drinks?"

Jeremy shook his head.

"For the same reason he has nightmares."

The pronghorn's eyes widened. How did this creature know about his father's shouting and crying in the night? About his inability to go into work without downing at least half a bottle of whisky?

"He is _ashamed_ my dear Jeremy, _ashamed_ at the savagery he committed, _ashamed_ at the horrors he brought about, _ashamed_ at the animal he became. I was there. He and his entire company behaved in this way."

The creature leaned in, wrapping its large, five-digit hands entirely around Jeremy's thin forearms and the arms of the chair, it's claws doubling back to dig into his flesh. "He took _everything_ Jeremy. He and his _fucking_ company. Slaughtered us with their rifles and automatic weapons," the claws sunk deeper into Jeremy's arms, eliciting a whimper as the creature continued whispering into his ear, "neither age nor gender mattered. In their eyes, we were all the same scum, unworthy of breathing the same air or tasting the same water."

Jeremy couldn't, or didn't dare to, speak. Finally, the albino abomination withdrew, lines of crimson traced down his face and snout, beginning at his red, slitted eyes. The creature wiped the streams away with a rag retrieved from a pants pocket.

"It's unfortunate, really," the creature said, voice slightly raspier than before, "how they keep you in the dark. That perfect city, the great, harmonious vision, is but an illusion, a _sham_. Haven't you ever wondered what they keep beneath? Hidden away so that the bright, shining Zootopia isn't soiled by the truth, by the facts of its existence?"

"What are you going to do?" Jeremy asked.

The creature regarded his clawed hand, small drops of the pronghorn's blood glinting in the wine-colored light. "I had everything taken from me, Jeremy. I'm simply returning the favor."

...

"…She's stable, but in a medically induced coma for a couple days," came a female voice, "Her vitals look good though; she's on the road to recovery."

Nick rolled over and opened his eyes just as the doe nurse left the room. There in the doorway stood Judy's parents, flanked by two other rabbits, probably a couple of Judy's siblings. He hadn't seen them since the badge-pinning ceremony and Gazelle concert afterwards. They didn't appear to have slept well either.

"Oh, my Judy," Mrs. Hopps said as she rushed over to the side of her daughter's bed. The other two teenaged rabbits followed, but Mr. Hopps remained in the doorway, hands in the pockets of his overalls.

Nick yawned silently and rubbed at his eyes. The morning sun shined through the large window behind him, casting lines and shadows over himself and the floor. He looked up to find Stu staring at him, expression blank. Nick gave him a wan smile. "Morning, sir."

"Morning Officer Wilde," Stu said, a bit stiffly, fatigue hanging from his words, "the nurses said that you saved our daughter's life and, uh," there was a pause. "I just wanted to thank you."

"I owed her, sir, I couldn't have done any differently. She would have done the same for me."

Stu approached Nick's dinky cot and offered his hand, which the fox shook. "Just so you know, anytime you'd like to visit the farm, we have all the blueberries you could ever want."

"Oh there's no need for that si-"

"Ah-ah," the rabbit interrupted, "I've already made my decision."

"It's the least we can do," Bonnie said, having been watching their conversation. The teenage rabbits stood just behind their mother, apparently a little startled at the sudden presence of a fox in the room.

"Thank you," Nick finally managed, genuinely touched.

Stu's smile faded after a while, and he sighed, turning to look at Judy. "So do you know what happened?"

It took a long time before Nick could reply. He felt exhausted all over again. "I…I still can't believe it's all real, that it actually happened. All I know is that someone planted a bomb at the station and…I think something I did…" his voice cracked, throat closing, "I set it off somehow. I don't know how or why, I don't know why we were targeted, I don't know why it was _her_ that took the brunt and not me. She didn't deserve any of this." He took a shaky breath to maintain control.

"Neither can we," Bonnie said, "We just got a call out of the blue early this morning, and we came as soon as we could. We didn't know anything about the bombs, just that Judy had been seriously hurt."

"Of all the places…" Stu muttered, shaking his head, " _inside_ the station. Who could be so bold and horrible?"

Nick grimaced, remembering the text on his phone. Whoever that bastard is, that's who. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the male of the younger rabbits elbow his sister, phone in hand. Her ears dropped and her eyes widened. Both of their eyes travelled from the device, to Nick, then back. _The hell are they looking at?_ Nick thought. He retrieved his own phone, which was charging beside him on the bed, and opened it. He clicked on his news app, then froze, his eyes wide and fur standing on end.

He and Judy were on the front page, lips locked in front of the station.

* * *

 _Hey boys and girls! Thanks for reading as always, and dealing with my erratic posting schedule._

 _As always, if anyone has critiques or suggestions, don't be afraid to let me know. Thank you for those who have already left reviews!_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: The Front Cover

Both he and Judy's eyes were closed; her head angled towards his shoulder, his out towards the camera. Nick's hand cradled the base of her head and neck, her hand cupping the base of his ear. Nick's right leg was bent at the knee, angled towards his other leg, his lap providing a sort of organic cushion for Judy's bleeding and torn body. His other hand grasped her waist, her remaining knee nestled in the crook of his elbow. Billowing out of the building behind them was a cloud of smoke and concrete dust, past the shattered glass of the front entrances. The headline read "Saved By a Kiss."

Nick met eyes once again with the male teenage rabbit, making a subtle cutting motion beneath his jaw while gently shaking his head. Not here, not in front of Judy's parents. Give them some time to get over the initial shock of almost losing their daughter. They could deal with the consequential emotions of an inter-species relationship later. Maybe.

A soft sob escaped Bonnie as she quietly began weeping. She was holding Judy's paw, stroking her fur with the other. Stu watched his wife, then stared at the floor for a long moment, as if collecting himself.

"Maybe the news will have some details," Stu said, pacing to a small table beside Judy's bed with a T.V remote set atop it. In the corner behind Nick's head was a television he hadn't noticed the night before, having been completely exhausted and distracted by his grief for Judy's condition.

Nick's breath caught. "Ah-uh-um…" he began, unable to form words. It was too late, Stu had powered up the hanging flat screen. To add insult to injury and whisk away any chance of distracting the rabbit or making a recovery, the first channel that the screen illuminated was, in fact, the news.

"…and new details coming in about yesterday's attack on ZPD's Station 1: investigators say there were multiple explosives detonated by electronic means," came the voice of a female snow leopard, "information is still being gathered as to the types of explosives and how they were planted in the first place. City officials still don't know who is behind these bombings, and what their motive could possibly be. Some suggest it may be tied to the incarceration and subsequent murder of former mayor Dawn Bellwether, but, so far, no conclusions can be drawn to link the two."

"Sweet cheese and crackers," Stu muttered under his breath as images of the station flashed across the screen.

"Also recently released, new images coming to us from the scene of the destruction showing first responders and civilians doing their part to assist with the medical evacuations of those requiring serious care," the male moose said, "included in this newly released series of photographs is this one-" the picture of Nick and Judy filled the screen- "showing hero cops Nicolas Wilde and Judy Hopps, long time partners on the force, sharing a kiss before Hopps was medivacked to the nearest hospital in critical condition. Reports say that Officer Wilde's actions yesterday saved Judy's life. No word yet on the state of either of them, nor the injuries Officer Hopps has sustained."

The room became unbearably hot, and Nick didn't dare glance at anyone else around him. He just sat, stiffly watching the screen.

"Time magazine is calling it 'the new kiss of life,' and are in the process of contacting Officers Hopps and Wilde for permission to use the image, as well as scheduling a subsequent interview," the snow leopard picked up again, "The city remains in mourning as the death toll rose to fifteen officers and civilians dead early this morning-"

The television was muted.

"I…I hadn't realized," Stu said, one hand covering his eyes, "the destruction. And you and-and Judy…"

"Stu?" Bonnie said, concern on her face.

Stu stood stark still as if trying to keep from boiling over. "I need some air," he suddenly blurted, tossing the remote onto Nick's bed and storming out the door.

"Oh Stu!" Bonnie said, racing after him. She shot a concerned look back at Nick and her kids, then followed the other rabbit out the door.

No one said a word as the door slowly shut. The two teenage rabbits stood beside Judy's bed facing Nick, looking shocked and a little sheepish. He shrugged for their benefit.

"Well…can't be helped now." He leaned his back to the wall, facing them on his bed. "So what are your names?"

"Marshall," the male rabbit said, raising his hand slightly.

"Deryn," said the female, crossing her arms.

"Nice to meet you both…I'm Nick, obviously," he said, indicating the still-silent television. They nodded, then it was followed by silence.

"She basically raised us," Marshall said out of the blue. He put a paw on Judy's arm. "She was our big sister, so we had to come down. She helped me through a lot of things."

"She's a great role-model to us," Deryn said, "always knew what to do and when."

"Heh, you're telling me," Nick said, "she's saved my skin so many times it's hard to remember. I don't think I'd be here right now if it wasn't for her." His eyes traveled over them and ended on Judy.

"We…we wanted to thank you," Deryn said, "for saving our big sister."

"Our dad might be a little freaked out at the picture, but we want you to know that most of us are pretty open-minded. All that we care is that you saved her," Marshall said, smoothing back his ears as he spoke.

Nick was surprised at the sudden wash of heart-felt thankfulness. "Y-you're very welcome."

After a few moments, the two rabbits glanced down at their vibrating phones. "Freaking group texts," Marshall muttered as he began typing.

"I guess we're going to lunch," Deryn said, also reading her screen, "We'll probably be back later though."

"In that case I'll find something to do. I think your parents need some time with Judy without me here," Nick said with a shrug.

"Until next time then," Marshall said. Nick returned his smile.

…

"What d'ya mean you can't test the battery if it has less than eight volts on it?" Nick asked, exasperated. The porcupine's answer didn't make any sense, and Nick could tell the prickly creature didn't know the truth of the matter either. "You know what, never mind, I'll just buy a new one," Nick said, tromping over to the rack of batteries and selecting the right one. It was extremely heavy, much heavier than Judy, but he managed to haul it to the front counter.

He had made this trip to O'Keif's auto parts as a favor for Finnick. Apparently the alternator went bad on the van and he was left stranded after delivering Nick's clothes to the hospital. Once he replaced the alternator, he found that the battery had been sucked dry, further compounding his problem. Nick felt it was only fair to complete this small mission for his friend, and it meant he had an excuse to leave the hospital so that Judy's parents could spend some time with their daughter before they had to return to the farm and raise their…many other children.

The porcupine looked up at him again, then began typing numbers into his computer at such a slow rate that Nick wondered if he had some sloth in his genealogy somewhere.

"With the warranty discount that comes to…fifty-three fifty." The porcupine's tired eyes followed Nick's card as he swiped it.

Nick thanked him out of formality more than sincerity, then stormed back outside to find Finnick half-way through a cigarette. "Goddam, what took you so long?"

"Dealing with a porcupine with more prickles than brain cells. I gave up and bought a new battery, the last one was old anyway."

"Shoot, you didn't have to go through all that trouble," Finnick said as he snuffed out his cancer stick on the sidewalk. He stood, rising to his full height of Nick's thigh.

"What are you talking about? Of course I had to, buddy."

Finnick shrugged. "Eh, I've never been able to stop you from doing yo thing before. Thanks anyway."

The taxi they'd taken to the parts store waited faithfully in the parking lot. The old goat at the wheel gave them a thumbs up as they climbed in the back, Nick depositing the weighty battery in the foot well. "All set there?"

"Yes sir, Nick replied, "Back to the stranded van, please."

They rode the rest of the way in silence. The trip wasn't long; Finnick had dumped the van in an alley near the hospital after the engine quit.

They tipped their driver after reaching the alley, then inspected the van to make sure some lowlife hadn't tampered with it in any way. Its tires had been slashed before.

Replacing the battery was a basic job. The hard part came from lifting the stupid battery high enough to nestle it in its compartment under the hood. Nick always considered himself reasonably fit, but more in the pursuit way rather than the tackling suspects way. This proved he had some work to do…it took way too much effort to get the battery in place, but it eventually worked.

"Hey, thanks again man," Finnick said afterwards.

"No problem big guy, just chipping away at my debt to you."

"Aw, man, you know you can just forget about all that, right?"

"I beg to differ," Nick said, scratching absent-mindedly under his chin, "But I don't mind it. Helping you helps me so why quit?"

"Whatever, you do your thing," Finnick said. He produced his dark shades and hopped up into the driver's seat. He could now almost meet Nick's gaze at eye-level. "I got some furniture to move around, but I'll see you later. Call me if you need me. For anything."

"I will, big guy," Nick said. They said their goodbyes with a fist bump.

…

Two hours later, after getting lunch, Nick found himself sitting in front of a sharply dressed female koala. She wore simple jewelry: plain earrings, a delicate, silver chain necklace, and a gold band on her left hand. Her jacket and business skirt were dark shades of blue, her blouse a light pink. In one hand she held a recording device, the other was poised over a notepad with a pen, which rested on a small side table.

This was Nora Willingham, a prominent journalist with Zootopia's leading news agency. She was the first to have permission granted for a private interview. Nick had allowed it because he preferred to not have a mass of reporters garble his words into something he didn't say. This way, if something was misconstrued, he would at least _know_ who the culprit was.

"I'd like to start by asking what was going through your head when the explosions first went off." Her voice was silky, and surprisingly deep, but not in a strange way.

Nick shrugged. "Shock…helplessness I guess. I felt numb pretty quickly, like I couldn't believe it was happening."

Nora's pen flew across the page. "What were you doing just before everything happened?"

"Well, I was in the evidence room, retrieving some…evidence, heh, for a case we were looking at," Nick said, cautiously trying to avoid giving too much away.

"I was told that you and Officer Hopps were put on paid administrative leave during the week prior to the bombing. Care to elaborate?"

Nick took a deep breath, images of that wonderful week with Judy flashing through his mind. "Chief Bogo felt that, due to some threats we had received, it would be best for us to be kept out of proceedings while some others looked into where they'd come from."

"Do you think these threats are related to the bombing?"

"I'm pretty positive, but I don't know why or how."

Nora's pen scratched on the notepad for a few moments.

"Do you think your relationship with Officer Hopps will bring hope to other inter-species couples?"

Nick blinked, not expecting the question in the least. "Um…w-well…" he stuttered.

"Are you two not in a relationship?"

"I'm not sure…that was our first kiss after all." The koala's eyebrows rose at this. "Yea, it's quite a doozy."

"I don't mean to pry, but what inspired this act of…love?" She gave him a questioning look.

Nick's body tensed defensively. "Yes, love," he said, "I thought she was going to die. She would have if the paramedics hadn't arrived on time, and I couldn't find the right words to tell her how I felt."

Nora nodded, pen still. "And how do you feel, Mr. Wilde?"

Nick was silent. Why was she asking so many questions about them? Wasn't the fact that fifteen animals were killed more important than two cops-made-celebrities sharing a kiss? "Like I want to honor the memory of the officers and civilians killed in this horrible act of violence and bring whoever instigated it to justice." The words were flat, and perhaps a touch too menacing. The koala's eyes flicked to the floor while she nodded. Message received.

"I think that's very noble of you. How would you like to see them honored?"

"The station needs to be rebuilt, for a start. I think it would be best to remember them by looking out more for one another, reaching out to those who are in need and going through troubled times, and by standing strong together to show whoever did this that it doesn't scare us."

The sound of the journalist's pen on paper was the only sound to be heard for a couple minutes. She gathered her things and stood, shaking Nick paw as he rose as well.

"Thank you for the interview, Officer Wilde. There may be some follow-ups, but this will be more than enough for a fantastic article."

"Well, you asked the right questions," Nick replied.

"It's my job," the koala said with a small chuckle as she opened the door to let herself out. Nick watched her leave, then sighed and gave the floor a sidelong glance. The journalist's questions caused himself to wonder: just how _did_ he feel about Judy? He certainly knew the thought of losing her was unbearable, but did he truly want to put her through the bigoted misery of an inter-species relationship? Love was there. Judy was a rare gem, and he had learned to treasure her. He just didn't know if she felt the same way.

He made his way through the hospital before eventually making it to Judy's room. The television was still on, muted. Just as he was about to turn it off, the picture posted on the screen caught his eye. A ZPD police cruiser was parked in front of the ruined station. The words "Step 2" were spray-painted on the side of it in bright red.

…

"So? How did I do?"

The giddy – no – manic fossa awaited a response, her yellow-tinged eyes made even more wild-looking in the red glow of the room. On the wall to her right hung a television that showed the latest news stories covering the explosion at the ZPD station, her latest assignment.

"The public's attention will be satisfactorily focused on the station. I think you have completed this part of the assignment well," the white one said; he leaned back in his chair and steepled his claws, "as can be said about the second part, though you cut it a bit close, don't you think?"

"I-I, yes – well, she wasn't supposed to within such a short proximity of the explosives. I thought they would all be in the bullpen, or nowhere near that one when it went off, but –heh – I was obviously wrong." The fossa's eyes darted around the room in their characteristic manner.

"This will not be a detriment, far from it. Though you _did_ almost vaporize her, she now has more attention from the public than ever; she's become a perfect distraction, and can even aid us, in her own way. Danny," he said, turning to his right.

"Yes, Mr. White?" asked the deer, stiffening while being addressed.

"That fox is the new wildcard. Note his daily routines, get to the core of who he is and what we can use to…convince him to help us. I don't know if he will actually be of any use to us, but I'd prefer to have him in my back pocket than out sniffing around. Use a rifle if you need to, but I need him and the rabbit alive for a little bit longer."

"Not a problem, sir," the buck said with a click of his hooves.

...

The whisper of wind across her fur was the first sensation that came to her. There was the scent of dryness and dirt, and the warmth of the sun. When she opened her eyes, she found herself staring at individual crystals of sand.

 _What the hell?_

She pushed herself up, arms weak. She knelt, gazing around her. It was a desert, but unlike any desert she'd ever heard of or seen. Distributed throughout the surrounding landscape were the ancient ruins of a forgotten city, jutting out of the dunes in random succession. Above her shone two giant suns: one blindingly bright, which sat on the horizon, and one slightly blueish, hanging in the purple-hued sky above and to her left. Floating islands of rock drifted by overhead, many dotted with palm trees and desert flora, levitating oases.

She tried to stand, but her knees gave out. How long had she been here? Where was here? Was there water around?

In the sand beside her lay what appeared to be a staff with a curve atop it. She'd only ever seen similar staffs in her history text books, a tool used to control slaves like sheep and pigs back in those barbaric years. Nonetheless, she grabbed it, and used it to hoist herself upright, the end sinking slightly into the sand.

Looking down at herself, she found a tattered, gray and sand-colored cloak draped over her form. Sashes around her neck and waist flapped backwards in the wind as she squinted at the nearest set of ruins. Maybe there'd be a well with water down there.

She stumbled down the dune, finding herself sighing with relief when the surface became more hard-packed and rocky. Approaching the ruins, it became apparent that these had been here for much longer than anything she'd ever heard of. Sand-worn symbols adorned the piled-stone pillars on either side of a collapsed entryway, their shapes reminiscent of ancient hieroglyphics, but made with more strokes and lines rather than picture-like representations.

Her nose twitched as she took in the dilapidated, yet pure and beautiful, surroundings. Sand wisped here and there due to the wind. Harsh, stout grasses grew in corners and against the walls of some of the buildings. Many bricks and stones lay haphazardly distributed, indicating the patterns of collapse sustained by many of the former structures.

She ascended a flight of stairs, laboring with her staff. Her eyes lit up as she spied a well in the center of a former square. She rushed towards it, stumbling, finally collapsing and catching herself on its wall. A rope dangled into oblivion, attached to an archaic hoist. It wouldn't budge. Careful not to wreck anything, she gingerly applied more pressure, jerking it until it slid into motion with a groan. As she rotated the handle, the rope gathering into a neat coil before her, the magnificent sound of splashing water reached her ears. The bucket finally came into view, ancient and made of wood held together with three bands of metal. She reached for it and plunked it down on the stones in front of her, some of its precious liquid sloshing out and darkening the rocks. After giving it a sniff, she drank deeply. It was cool and exceedingly refreshing, soothing her dry throat and chapped lips.

A flash of motion caught her eye. Her ears perked up, and she grabbed her staff. In a shaded alley stood the silhouette of a fox. She could tell by the slender body, bushy tail, and ears, one of which twitched.

"H-hello?" She asked warily. For a while nothing happened, the two just staring at one another, the wind kicking up sand between them.

Suddenly, the figure rushed down the alley, a playful chuckle echoing around Judy. It was Nick.

"Nick!" She exclaimed, rising with her staff and giving chase. She just saw his tail disappear around the left wall of the alley.

"C'mon Carrots," Nick's voice came again, seeming to descend from the sky all around her, "you have to be quicker than that!"

"Nick? Where are you?" Judy asked, having rounded the corner and finding the road empty.

"This way, this way Fluff."

Judy then noticed the silhouette again, but impossibly far away, sprinting up one of the dunes overlooking the city. It turned and gave a friendly wave.

"I love you Carrots," Nick's voice said again, this time in an echoing whisper, "Come back to me. The world needs you."

Judy redoubled her pace, and inexplicably found herself atop the same dune. She could see his paw-prints in the sand. They led away towards the horizon, directly towards the larger, white sun. In its rays, she could see the fox shadow again, hands on its hips.

"Well?" Nick boomed from the sky again, "What's the holdup?"

More whispers echoed in her ears as she gave chase, stumbling and rolling down the face of the dune.

 _"She'll be alright…"_

 _"…but what if she's different?"_

 _"….and life has a way of continuing…"_

 _"I don't want him here…"_

 _"…you think she'll handle it?"_

 _"…It's Judy, remember?"_

"Nick!" she shouted, the light becoming increasingly blinding, "Nick, please wait!"

"You're doing fine, Carrots. Just keep following me."

The wind started to pick up, pushing her back and away from the ever-brightening sun. She raised her arms to shield her face, using her staff to guide her forward, anchoring her in the sand.

"Almost there, my love. Almost there…" Nick said. She could hear the tender smile the words were said with.

"Nick!" She yelled, "Nick!"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Awakening

Everything was dark, silence enveloping her like a massive, wet cotton ball. Slowly, sounds on the edge of her awareness began to make themselves known: a strange wheezing noise, rhythmic electronic beeping, and whispers from multiple voices and directions. Air flowed in and out of her lungs without her participation. Her body felt heavy and sore, like on mornings when she slept in way too late.

She tried to open her eyes, but was immediately met with a blinding light. She tried to shield her face but her arm felt as though it weighed three hundred pounds.

"Ah, let me get this," an unfamiliar male voice said. Judy's confusion turned to sudden panic as she felt something moving in her throat. She gagged as the uncomfortably large object was drawn out of her mouth, allowing her to breathe on her own. She coughed, the action awakening pain in every corner of her body.

"Judy? Darling?" came her mother's voice.

"Hey Jude, can you hear us?" that one was her father.

She tried to speak, but the best sound she could muster was a groan as she tried once again to peel her eyelids open. The light was still there, but it wasn't as painful as before. Judy persevered through the discomfort, and soon she could make out the shifting, blurry shapes of her parents. Only one eye was working, however.

Her parents' faces lit up.

"Oh good, oh good! My god, I was so worried!" her mother said, clasping Judy's left paw in both of hers.

Stu put his arm over Bonnie's shoulders. "I knew she'd make it, nothing can keep Jude the Dude down." He smiled at her, "How are you feeling?"

"H...hey guys," Judy croaked, smiling. "Just a little weak."

"That's as to be expected," came the unfamiliar voice from her right, the darkened side of her vision. She slowly rotated her head until she saw the otter, wearing a white lab coat and fiddling with something on the wall behind her head. "There are still lots of drugs in your system. The effects should wear off in a couple hours, but you're healing up nicely."

"Wh…what happened? Why am I…here?" Judy murmured, lifting her hand to feel whatever was covering her face. She was only met with a lack of sensation. Confused, she twisted her head so her uncovered eye could be brought to bear on her arm. "Wh-wh…wha?" were the only noises she could emit. She began to shake. Where the fuck was her arm?

"There…there was an explosion at the station. A terrorist attack," her mother said. Judy felt her mother's paw on hers.

Memories flooded back just then. Images of the flash, then the ceiling of the station. She remembered Chief Bogo opening the door to the bullpen just as everything happened, and how the door was destroyed. Flashes of Nick, his worried face, the fur of his neck, his words of encouragement all cycled through her. And then the kiss.

A pressure behind her eyes she wasn't aware of suddenly burst, and her vision blurred with tears. "Oh god…o-oh god."

"Judy-" Her mother began.

"Where's Nick?" Judy's gaze was fierce, but her body still trembled.

There was silence, then another body in the room shifted. Nick rose into view, previously unseen on the opposite wall at the foot of Judy's bed. "I'm here, Carrots."

His smile sent waves of relief through her. She deflated, sinking into her pillow and mattress, sobbing into her remaining paw. He was alive. She wasn't sure if she'd hallucinated the whole thing or not.

"Everything's going to be alright hun," her mother said.

"It's all over, isn't it?" Judy's voice was hoarse.

"What is, sweetheart?"

"My…my career. I can't be a police officer without an arm. I'm finished." She choked back a sob and squeezed her eye shut in shame.

"Oh don't say that Judy," came the voice of her sister, Deryn. "You're too good of a cop for them to let you go!"

"That's right! You're a hero to Zootopia," Marshall chimed in.

Judy spied them beside her parents at the far left of her bed, near her foot. She smiled at their words, but her lips trembled. "I can't catch bad guys if I can't use my arm," she said.

"There's got to be something!" Deryn said, chin unsteady.

"I…don't know-"

"Young lady," the otter said, "My name is Dr. Frederick Otterton, brother to Emmitt Otterton."

She turned to look at him, finally realizing the resemblance.

"I will do everything within my power to rehabilitate you. You will have the finest prosthetics, and the best eletro-dynamic technology we have so that you may continue doing your good work on the force. It's all I can do to repay you."

There was silence as his words sank in. "But I'm still alive," Judy said, "isn't that repayment enough?"

"You aren't dead, yes, but I want to give you your _life_ back, just as you did for my brother."

"I…I don't know how to thank you," Judy said at length.

"Seeing you in blue again will be all the thanks I need. We took your measurements while you were unconscious so that the prosthetics could be ready by the time you woke up. Unfortunately, due to the nature of the requirements and the complexity involved, they're a couple days behind schedule."

"That's…that's alright. I'm going to need some time to…digest all of this." Judy focused on breathing; she felt like she'd just been tossed into the middle of a lake and needed to figure out fourteen rubiks cubes before she drowned. The tumult of information was a bit overwhelming. She glanced at Nick, who wore a smile despite flattened ears, flicked her eye towards her parents, then back at the ceiling. She knew they were reluctant to leave, but she also knew they realized they couldn't stay. The farm needed attention, as well as the rest of her family.

"It's alright, you two can take care of farm business and my siblings; I'm in good care, right Dr. Otterton?" She turned to the otter.

"Indeed, she's one of my best patients," Otterton said with a nod.

"Okay," her mother said, tears brimming over her smiling cheeks. "Just call us if you need anything, we'll be here as soon as we can."

"Thanks, mom," Judy said with a smile.

They each leaned in for a kiss. "We'll visit soon," Stu said.

"Okay. Love you guys," Judy said. They exited one by one, Marshall and Deryn each giving her one final glancing smile before they left.

"Just…a…moment," Dr. Otterton said as he scribbled on his clipboard. "Just recording your vitals. I'll leave you two be; I imagine you have much to catch up on." He said, making for the door.

"Dr. Otterton," Judy said. The otter paused at the door handle and turned. "Thank you."

Otterton gave a kind smile. "I should be thanking _you_ Miss Hopps. I can only hope my methods prove satisfactory to your needs." With that, he left.

The door hissed to a close, silence pervading the room. Judy's eyes traced their way back to Nick, who stood with his hands in his pockets, staring at the floor, ears flat. They both blurted each other's names at the same time, the both looked away in embarrassment.

"Are you alright, Nick? Were you hurt in the explosion?" Judy finally managed.

"Not physically," Nick replied.

"Oh..." Judy's heart sank. It must have been torture for him, horrific to endure seeing her this way. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright, I'm getting better every day," he said, lifting his eyes to meet hers.

"Okay good…good." The pause was heavy, pregnant. She suspected they were both thinking about the same thing, simultaneously avoiding the same event.

Nick broke the strangling quiet. "I'm…s-sorry I kissed you…without your permission."

Judy couldn't help but burst into giggling laughter, the tension in the air suddenly rushing away. "Oh god! I was so curious about how you felt!" Her laughs turned to coughs, her body reminding her that having fun wasn't allowed at this moment in time. At length, she said, "But really, that's adorable. You're very sweet to think about it that way; I admire your respectfulness."

He only shrugged sheepishly, giving the floor a good side-eye and scratching his arm.

"There's no need to apologize," she said. _Finally_ he looked up at her. "I've been feeling…different about you for a while now. We work so well together and, even though you aren't a rabbit, I…" Her mind raced, "I've thought about taking it further. I was just in denial, or too scared, I guess, to say anything before."

Nick's ears had perked up slightly.

"I think I would have done the same thing in that situation. Well, I kind of did." She fixed him with a stare directly into his green eyes. "If…if you can stand to have me after…after a-all this," she said, voice cracking as she swept an arm to indicate her macerated body, "then I wouldn't mind kissing you a thousand more times like that."

Another pregnant pause, this time interrupted with a sniffle from Nick. His lips trembled, and his eyes had gone all bloodshot and puffy. He rubbed his paws over his face and sucked in a deep breath. "Dammit Carrots, you just go straight for the heart don't you?"

"Oh you foxes, so emotional."

He smirked with hazy eyes. "Indeed. But I learn from the best." His expression suddenly dropped; he obviously remembered something in that moment. "About that kiss…" He began.

"Yes?"

"We, uh, we're going to be on the cover of Time."

…

The response of the ZPD was decidedly slow. That was to be expected, considering their central station had been blown sky high. However irate the pronghorn's parents had become, no one could search for him very effectively if there was no one left to search!

However, with this small dose of chaos distracting the city, four more mammals had gone missing. Everything was going delightfully to plan. All that was needed was a little stir. The pronghorn's body would add to the pot, which was just starting to simmer.

Killing Jeremy had been easy. A neat slash across the throat with his claws, watching as the life drained from his eyes. The body would serve as the third step, the one that would open the public's eyes to what was going on.

"Plant this on him," Mr. White said, handing a piece of stationery to the van driver. The tiger nodded, then drove through the rolled up door and onto the street.

Now, for the next step.

…

The deaths of fifteen officers was hard to handle. The fact that she and Nick were going to be on the front cover of Time magazine was harder. Coming to terms with losing her arm, leg, and possibly her eye was hardest of all, but she combated that by trying not to think about it too much.

"The new kiss of life, huh?" She asked, sitting up and eating some berries. She was able to take a look at the picture by using Nick's phone as hers had been destroyed when the bomb went off.

"They haven't officially decided what to call it yet," Nick replied, "but the name seems fitting. Everyone keeps telling me that you would have died if I hadn't brought you outside."

"Hm," she said around a mouthful, "they're probably right, it was a good kiss. Any leads?"

"For the bombers?"

"Yeah."

"Not…not really. I don't think anyone's spent any time trying to figure that out since everything happened. The whole department's been shaken up and it might be a couple more days until everyone gets their bearings again."

"Hopefully I'll be walking by then," Judy said, mostly to herself.

Nick's ears flattened again, but he maintained his smile. "I bet you'll still be outpacing me, though that isn't hard to do."

She gave him a smirk. "Oh you know I will." They shared a chuckle before a knock came from the door.

A doe dressed in scrubs entered backwards, dragging a small, shelved cart. She started when she noticed Nick in the room. "Oh! I hope I'm not interrupting anything!"

"Not at all, ma'am," Nick said.

"Well good. Are you her caretaker?"

"I think I technically am, yes. I'm listed as an emergency contact and all that."

"Perfect! I was just going to change her dressings and teach her in the process, but since you're here," she gathered supplies as she spoke, mostly rolls of what looked like gauze and paper-sized sheets of cotton. "And I assume you'll be here for some time?"

"As far as I know yes. I'll probably have to be more mobile at some point, but I'll be at least stopping by every day," Nick replied. Judy smiled.

"It's good that you learn this then; the healing process for these kinds of injuries is long."

"How long are we talking," Nick asked.

The doe paused. "Prosthetic practice can begin as early as ten days from now depending on how well she's healing. To heal fully can take anywhere from one to three months, and you'll need to come in for physical therapy sessions for probably a year…" She trailed off, seeming to notice Judy deflating.

"A year?" Saying it herself brought the weight of the facts with it. A whole year, three hundred and sixty five days, twelve months…that was almost as long as she had been part of the ZPD.

"There are options," the nurse said, reassuringly, "the reason it takes so long is because the limbs go through a period of swelling and changing shape before stabilizing; that's why so many therapy and prosthetic fitting sessions are normally needed. However, there are ways to get you almost fully operational inside of a week."

Nick tilted his head, "Go on."

"Well," the nurse hesitated, glancing back at the closed door leading to the hallway. Apparently not everyone got to hear about these 'options.' "We have technology that allows us to, how should I put it, create an access point of sorts. It, um, we bolt a sort of cap with electronics in it to your bone. The ring of metal surrounding the area essentially nullifies the expanding and contraction of a healing stump, but it can be _much_ more painful."

"But it means I can get back to my life much faster?" Judy asked, ears straightening a little more.

"Yes. You will be required to go through more surgery to install the attachment points, and you will need to learn to care for your new limbs."

Judy traded a glance with Nick. "How much does Dr. Otterton know about these options?"

"Dr. Otterton is the one that installs them," the Doe said, "I think he's the best animal to talk to about this, really."

"In that case, could you do us a favor and have him drop by when he isn't busy saving lives?" Judy asked with a smirk.

"Of course! But first, I need to change your dressings. That's what I came in here for after all, then you two got me blabbering!"

…

Nick picked up on changing the wrappings on Judy's limbs quite quickly, although the job was gruesome and painful to both of them. Her because of the movements and exposing her sutures and weeping wounds to open air, him because his soul rebelled at seeing the pain she had to go through, the expectation of future agony, and the struggle to rejoin an image-obsessed society that now idolized them.

After the doe left, it took almost seven hours for Dr. Otterton's schedule to free up. The two spent the time by reading and sleeping, and just enjoying one another's company. It was a rare peace.

Dr. Otterton had taken seven hours to get to them, and even then he looked as though he had very little time, having just come out of a surgery. He explained the concept and workings of the prosthetic attachment points and the technology that went with them. Most of it was too complicated and full of medical and techno jargon for Nick or Judy to follow very well, but the premise was simple: surgery would anchor a connection point to the end of each affected limb, into which a very advanced prosthetic would join. The limbs would be able to be controlled directly via signals from the brain. This would require a chip to be planted in Judy's skull to read the electronic signatures which would send commands down artificial nerves that ran directly to the limbs themselves. This was apparently more effective than earlier attempts in which they tried to utilize the nerve endings already in the surviving part of a limb, but this often proved unsuccessful due to damage and lack of compatibility between the existing organic material and any electronics employed.

The costs, of course, were astronomical, but, unexpectedly, a solution presented itself. Being the brother of Mr. Big's florist, Dr. Otterton was able to pull some strings and secure a hefty amount of money to add to his own donation. A gift of thanks for the godmother to his daughter's children.

It was the day of Judy's surgery that Nick received the call from Bogo. The chief had healed quite well, and he was leading the investigations into the bombing on the police station. They had just found the body of a male pronghorn tied to a streetlight outside Nick's bungalow. A piece of stationery was found on the corpse that called Nick out by name.

 _To Nicolas Wilde_ , it said, _From Mr. White_.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Smoke Break

"His name was Jeremy Conacher," Bogo said. "His father manages the Stater Bros. on Hawkthorne Street. His mother is a high school counselor."

Nick just _hmphd_ , staring at the body on the medical examiner's table, coffee in hand. The pronghorn looked to be in his late twenties, and had a gash across his throat that resembled the work of a large, predatory cat. He shivered as he remembered his own name printed on the piece of stationery that was found with the body. "Got anything on this Mr. White guy?"

"Not yet; we have forensics analyzing the slashing patterns to see if we can trace the claw-type," Bogo said. Nick felt the water buffalo's gaze shift from the body to him. "I get the feeling someone's playing with us. With you specifically."

"That's the understatement of the year," Nick said, snout already in his Styrofoam coffee cup. "Any motives? Did Jeremy or his family have any enemies? Bad, shady deals?"

"Not as of yet. Quite understandably, the parents are in a very emotional state at the moment." Bogo shifted the cane he was using; his leg was still in a brace.

Nick sniffed. "In that case, I'm going to try and talk to them. I happen to know, from previous experiences, that when animals get emotional, they sometimes let more information slip than they otherwise would. It's good to ask now while they're still ripped open."

"How sympathetic of you Wilde," Bogo muttered.

"Well I'd like to stop this sooner than later so excuse my suppressed empathy," Nick said, starting for the door.

"Wilde," Bogo said, and Nick stopped, facing away. "What's wrong? You're stressed."

"Aside from the obvious?" Silence spanned the two for a beat, then Nick relented. "Judy's in surgery right now, I'm just a little worried for her, that's all." He heard Bogo's comprehending huff as he entered the hallway.

Down two more corridors and across a foyer, Nick finally found himself in front of the door he needed. It was a morgue, why did the building need to be so needlessly complicated? Kenneth and Cori Conacher sat next to one another in the empty waiting room, Mr. Conacher burying his face in his hooves while his wife leaned on him, doing her best to console her sobbing husband. She noticed Nick first.

"Hi," Nick began, "I'm Officer-"

"Nick Wilde," she interrupted him, "We saw you on the news. How is Officer Hopps? Or am I not allowed to know?"

"She's…in surgery again," Nick said hesitantly. "I'm sorry about your son. You have my most sincere condolences, I know well the heartache you two are going through right now."

"Thank you," Mrs. Conacher said, eyes welling up despite her show of emotional strength.

Nick sat across from them. "I was hoping you could help us in our investigation by answering some questions. Your answers may lead us to the killer, and give us an answer as to why this happened."

The female pronghorn nodded, rubbing her husband's stooped back. "Hear that honey, this nice officer is going to help us."

"It doesn't matter if he's already dead," came the hoarse, trembling response.

"At the very least I can bring closure," Nick said, hoping Mr. Conacher wasn't closing himself off already. "I'd like to start by asking if you or Jeremy specifically had any enemies."

"No, he was a fine and upstanding pronghorn Mr. Wilde," Mr. Conacher said, lifting his head and fixing Nick with a menacing, tear-stained stare.

Nick breathed deeply, reminding himself that it was simply a parenting instinct to be overly-protective of one's child, and very defensive about their reputation. "What did he do for a living?"

"He was a mechanic and restored vintage cars for paying customers," Cori said.

"Hmm, did he ever have any trouble customers that you know of?"

"None that we heard of, though you should probably ask his coworkers about that."

"Thank you, I will. What's the name of his workplace?"

"Chip Moose's Garage and Restorations," she said with a smile, "he loved working there."

Nick smiled sympathetically. "I've heard it's a great place myself. Did he have any shady friends or associates you might disapprove of?"

"If he did we never met them. He moved out of the house at twenty two, and he was always very open with us visiting him in his apartment. He always kept the place clean."

Nick nodded; it was sounding more and more like Jeremy was in the wrong place at the wrong time rather than someone who had betrayed someone of the underworld and payed the price for it.

Of course, Mrs. Conacher could be lying about the whole thing.

"Did either of you two notice anything strange around the days of his disappearance? Any weird messages or looks from other animals in public? Did it seem like you were being watched?"

At his question, Mr. Conacher froze. Nick smirked internally with satisfaction.

"No," the pronghorn said, eyes intensely locked with Nick's, "none at all. Nothing of that sort whatsoever. Nobody called us." Mr. Conacher's stare purposely betrayed his words. Nick felt a cold spot form in his chest.

"I…see. Thank you Mr. and Mrs. Conacher, hopefully we can meet again somewhere more private." He glanced at the corner over his right shoulder, straight into the lens of the security camera with its flashing red light.

Mrs. Conacher nodded. "I'll go to the car honey, would you like a smoke break?"

"I'd like that, yes," he turned to Nick, "know of any good places to smoke without bothering anyone?"

"I hear there's a spot by the dumpsters," Nick said, "on the East side of the building."

"I don't know this place very well, perhaps you could show me?"

"I'd be delighted," Nick said, standing with the rest of them.

The group separated into their respective directions as soon as they were out of the sliding glass doors; Mrs. Conacher to the right towards the parking lot, and Nick and Ken to the left in the direction of the dumpsters.

Following a quick scan, Nick determined there were no cameras around. The pronghorn across from him took out a cigarette and lit it with shaking hooves. After two deep drags, he fixed Nick with a puffy-eyed stare.

"I got called three days ago. Private number, no location. This happens pretty often with grocery store matters; I also manage the supply trains." He took another drag and shivered in the cold; the coroner's office was in Tundra Town. It made body preservation easier. "There was just this dark, dark voice on the other end. I don't think it was disguised in any way, it was just…menacing. He only said one sentence: 'now you will feel some of the pain you put me through.' He hung up after that."

Nick nodded. "In that case, may I have the number from the phone you were called on? We can get the recording from your cell provider and get a voice analyzer on the bastard." Nick took out his own phone and created a new contact.

"Sure. Area code seventy two, two ten-"

The air was shattered by an explosion. Both Nick and Ken ducked in surprise as the ground rumbled beneath them.

"What the hell was-" Nick started, then his heart dropped. Both of their eyes met, and both new they had drawn the same conclusion.

"Cori!" Mr. Conacher screamed, sprinting past Nick, who gave chase. The parking lot was on the opposite face of the building. Both of them stumbled and slid on the frozen ground, each frantically rushing towards the parking lot.

A small line of cars had been severely damaged, the two closest to the burning husk in the center had been thrown away from the epicenter. Three or four other cars had caught fire, and hardly a window still existed throughout the parking lot.

"CORI!" Mr. Conacher shouted again, stumbling forward only to collapse into the fetal position on the snowy ground.

Nick whipped his eyes around the area, scanning for anyone who might be lingering or hurt. All seemed empty. He crouched defensively by the sobbing pronghorn. "Mr. Conacher, we need to get inside, you could be in danger!"

"I don't care anymore!" the pronghorn shrieked.

Nick began to drag the sobbing animal toward the doors of the morgue complex. "Kenneth please!"

They never quite made it. Nick was suddenly showered in crimson and chunks of flesh as the pronghorn's body bucked, a large portion of his head missing. The report of a distant rifle sounded in the distance a full second later.

Nick swore, dropping the body and scrambling for the doors. One of the panes shattered to his right, the low boom sounding again, but he managed to dive through the threshold. "Bogo!" he shouted, ripping the door to the waiting room open and dashing down the hallways. Nick didn't have a radio on him. "Chief! Shots fired, call in backup!" He said as he quite literally ran into the hulking water buffalo.

"Wilde, what happened to you?! Where are the Conachers?!"

"Dead, sir, this blood is Ken's. Cori's the victim of a car…car bomb…" Nick's legs gave out, and he slid down the wall, swearing to himself and trying to wipe some of the blood off of his muzzle. It did no good, as his hands were slathered in the stuff.

When he looked up again, he saw Bogo shouting into his radio, but he couldn't hear him. The only sound in his ears was a high-pitched ring and his own shaky breathing. An impassive part of his brain told him he was in shock. Seemed appropriate.

…

Nick looked down at his paws. Despite the best efforts of the EMTs and copious amounts of rubbing alcohol, some dried blood still remained. And they trembled. Not from the cold; he sat in the back of a heated ambulance with an emergency blanket wrapped around him, so he was plenty warm.

One of the back doors opened to reveal Chief Bogo, consternation present on his face.

"H-hey chief," Nick said, giving his best 'I'm doing alright' smile. "Find anything?"

"Besides a blood-stained fox? No. When the door was shot, the glass affected the trajectory of the bullet, so we don't even know which direction it came from. The explosives vaporized so much of the car that no one around here has even a clue where to start looking. We'll have to bring in specialists, which could take a while. So it's all gone tits up."

"Well shit," Nick said, running a hand over his face. He needed some alcohol.

SWAT had arrived within five minutes of the call. Within an hour a perimeter of over a mile was secured to ward off any more pot shots the mysterious sniper might want to take.

"Since you arrived by taxi, I've arranged for this ambulance to drop you off back at Safari Medical Center. I got word that Judy is out of surgery and back in the room. Also," he huffed and looked bored, "Clawhauser misses you and is wondering when you'll be dropping by the backup station."

Nick chuckled. "I'll be by as soon as I can. He could have just texted me you know."

"Yes, well, it's Clawhauser. Anyway, take care Wilde, I've got things to take care of."

"Sir," Nick said, just as Bogo turned to leave, "Mr. Conacher was about to give me his phone number so that we could do some voice analysis on a threatening phone call he received about his son's death. I have a feeling it will lead us in the right direction." He shrugged, "I also wasn't able to get much background out of him, but I sense there's more to his story. Would it be alright if I did some digging?"

"You're starting to behave like a detective, Wilde," Bogo said, eyebrow arched.

"Well…we're in some strange times," Nick said with another shrug.

"Absolutely. Very well, I'll notify records and let them know you're coming and that you have special permission from me to look into Mr. Conacher's file. They'll refer you to the appropriate government office. Good day." With that, Bogo left, his cane clacking on the frozen ground.

…

The ride back to the hospital seemed longer than his initial taxi ride to the morgue somehow. Probably because the paramedics made a quick stop for some food. They apparently hadn't eaten anything in over twelve hours, and Nick didn't mind the detour. But every passing second felt three times as long as they usually did, and it was almost a surprise when they made it to the hospital at all.

As if on cue, as soon as the ambulance came to a halt outside the medical center, another call came through their radio, so Nick hustled out of the vehicle and waved thanks as they pulled out, lights and sirens going. He took a deep breath and looked down at himself. His clothes were still stained, Hawaiian shirt ruined and khakis trashed. He knew he still had blood in his fur.

 _Hey big guy_ , he texted, _would you mind bringing me some more clothes? Mine got a little…bloody._

His phone trumpeted as he walked through the hospital.

 _Shit you get in a fight?_

Nick smiled to himself. _Naw, I'll tell you later. Still recovering. It's not my blood._

 _I gotcha. Be there in 30._

 _What would I be without you?_

 _SOL._

Nick chuckled. Finnick was a good friend. He made for the showers.

…

Mr. White's low, burbling laughter echoed through the sweltering red room. It was good to see his employer chortling, but the effect was soul-shaking. The enormous monitor was staring at his screen with an evil look in his eye. He was obviously reviewing the footage of the Bering Morgue incident.

"Well done, well done indeed. Excellent shot my dear Fey. You two have the most perfect timing," he said in his coarse, slithering voice. "Good job missing the fox."

"Thank you, sir," Danny said. He was always a stag of few words, unlike his partner for this job.

"I'm-heh-glad you enjoyed my handiwork." The fossa's paws chased one another over their respective wrists. She seemed to endlessly have her hands moving. Perhaps it was best to keep her occupied making explosives.

A muffled growl made Danny's ears perk up. In the shadows behind Mr. White was a pair of eyes that reflected the light of the screen. When the lizard turned, his shadow moved out of the way to reveal a female tiger, bound to the same chair the pronghorn had occupied only the day before. She had a gag beneath a muzzle.

"I haven't forgotten about you, don't worry," Mr. White said, his lips drawing back to reveal his menacing rows of teeth. "You are going to have a special job." He turned back to face Danny, who stiffened under the albino creature's crimson eyes. "What can you tell me about the fox?"

"He cares deeply for the rabbit. I've managed to set up on a roof that gives me a perfect line of sight into the room. He's sleeping on a cot and changing her dressings mostly. Some other rabbits have come and gone, but other than that it's mostly staff, though I somehow suspect you know this already, sir." The monitor nodded, then motioned for him to continue. "He, uh, suspects that someone is onto him, judging by the way he looks around and talks to others. I think it's going to be more and more difficult to find him outside in the future."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Mr. White said, "that's why we have Asha here. C-4 tends to flush people out rather quickly."

The fossa giggled maniacally.

* * *

 _Things are finally starting to happen eh? Thanks for dealing with my need to make story proceedings somewhat logical..._

 _This is where the story really starts to pick up, so thanks to those of you who have stuck through these, uh, mundane chapters._

 _Also, I went back and fixed a name. In chapter 2, Danny references someone by the name of Camilla. This was a early idea for the character of Asha, the bomb-wielding fossa. I have gone back and made the edit so that confusion no longer persists._

 _Also also, there may or may not be smut ahead, it depends on how naturally things progress that way. I can go either way, but I'm not good at forcing anything to happen, so we'll see. I'm hoping this will be the first in a series of stories that are connected, so if you don't get your smut dose from this one, then you may find some in future editions. Consider this your smut warning; I'm not a fan of letting readers know what's going to happen in a chapter. If it's offensive to you (though I try to keep things classy) I have no qualms about you simply scrolling by. ;)_

 _~Cheers for now_

 _~Bagpipeheadache_


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Screeching Sleepers

Judy lay awake in her hospital bed, staring at the ceiling. She had no grip on how much time was passing, or even where she was, really. Why did she have surgery again? Did she have surgery? Where was Nick? Why was she in a hospital?

And what the hell was that repetitive noise?

She turned to her left, and found a heart monitor with a dot streaking lines across it, making little jagged peaks. She must be in a hospital. Why was she here again? She huffed with frustration, then decided that the sleep tugging on her eyelids was important, and so relented.

…

She felt her body begin to awaken first. She became aware of different parts of her, beginning with her chest, which contained her gently beating heart. Next, her arm and leg, then ears and face. Her eyes felt like they were growing, almost forcing her eyelids open.

The lights in the room had been dimmed, and she could see the nightly lights of the city dancing across the ceiling. She laid there for a time, waiting, listening. When her curiosity got the better of her, she propped herself up on her elbow and scanned the room. It was identical, save for the absence of Nick, marked by the cot with sheets and a blanket that hadn't been made.

Agony ignited over the entire right side of her body, firing from her skull down her neck and amputated arm, spider-webbing through her side and ending at her leg. She gasped and fell back onto the bed, left hand clawing at the sheets. What the hell was wrong with her?! She glanced down at her right arm, or what was left of it, and saw what appeared to be a very wide metal ring encasing the end of the stump. There was no roundness to it; the tip was flattened off, but she couldn't see the underside of the rings where the rest of her arm would, probably, attach to. It was a similar story with her leg. As she shifted, she felt something tugging at her skin beneath her hospital gown, and she lifted it to find that she'd been shaved down her entire side, the canyon in her fur marked by sutures every few inches and pieces of tape to hold the whole thing together. The bareness extended down three sides of her leg: the front of her thigh, down the side, and around the back. Feeling herself blush, there was also a line shaved that ran down the inside of her thigh. What the hell were those for?

The nerve wires, of course. There was a similar pattern on her arm. She suddenly realized that half of her face wasn't covered in bandages. Her right eyelid felt slightly heavier and almost sticky, but the eye beneath it seemed to be working.

The realization also hit that she was quite hungry, and desperately thirsty. She scanned the machine around her bed once again to see if there were some way to let the hospital staff know, but she couldn't find anything she recognized as a call button or string amidst the tumult of wires and boxes. Some morphine and water would be heavenly. She sighed; she'd probably have to wait until morning. The doctors and nurses all probably thought she was asleep with most of the rest of the hospital. She couldn't wait to get out of this stuffy room…hopefully her prosthetics were water-proof, then she could go sailing again with Nick and not have to worry about spray or falling off the boat. Or having to rescue _him_ after falling off of the boat, which was an amusing excursion.

Where had that fox gone anyway? The last thing she remembered was him walking alongside her bed as she was being wheeled to the operating room, giving her much more emotional support than she needed before he was interrupted by a call from Bogo. It was almost a relief; he worried too much.

As if on cue, the latch on her door _clunked_ , and in walked Nick. He carried a small tote bag, and made sure the door shut silently before glancing at her. His expression softened.

"Hey, look who's awake," he said, voice barely above a whisper. He set his tote next to the cot and padded over to her, taking her paw. "How are you feeling?" He smelled like he was fresh out of the shower.

"I'm okay," Judy said, "just really thirsty. And hungry. And everything on my right is on fire." He chuckled, then kissed her paw, which sent a crackle up her arm. Was it the drugs?

"I'll see what I can do to fix that." He winked, then poked his head out of the door, followed by his arm, which he used to wave someone over. After a quick, whispered conversation he closed the door and returned to Judy's side.

She smiled at him. "Thank you Nick. What was the call from Bogo about?"

At her words, the light seemed to leave his figure, and he visibly deflated, eyes immediately distant. "It, uh…there was another victim, we think, done in by the same people that took out Bellwether."

"Oh no," Judy said, her mind racing through anyone involved in the Night Howler episode. She hoped it wasn't Manchas, or Lionheart. Then Doug, the ram, crossed her mind, and she felt herself hoping it was him since he was still loose on the streets.

"It wasn't anyone we knew," Nick said, bringing her thought train to a halt. "Late-twenties pronghorn mechanic. Looks like a big cat slashed him across the throat, but we won't know until they've finished analyzing the claw pattern."

"Yeesh," she said, then noticed his lack of eye contact. "There's more isn't there?"

"His body was tied to a lamp post outside my place, with a note made from the same fancy paper. The only problem is that they called me out by name, _and_ one of them gave us his: Mr. White." He looked up at her. "I don't know what to make of it yet, but he means business."

"Did Bogo put you into any kind of witness protection or something?"

Nick shook his head. "But he did grant me special permission to look more deeply into the matter. The pronghorn victim's father, I believe, has a shadier past than what I got out of him in…the time I had."

Judy smirked, about to make a comment about shady pasts, but stopped as the hollow look returned to Nick's eyes. His grip on her paw also increased exponentially. Something bad had happened.

"Nick."

It took him three tries and two hard swallows before he could meet her gaze. His muzzle trembled and his eyes were glossy.

"What the hell happened?" She said slowly, eyes locked.

"They died. His parents. The pronghorn's parents. The wife, she…" He took a breath, "she was killed by a car bomb in the parking lot while I was trying to ask the husband some questions away from cameras. We came running, obviously. He collapsed with grief, and I tried to drag him back inside the building…but…" A single sob racked his frame, and his breathing became elevated. He was staring at her sheets again.

"It's alright, Nick," she stroked his paw with her thumb, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to-" He held up his other paw and clamped his eyes shut. His breathing slowed, he was gaining control of himself again.

"There was a sniper. He killed the pronghorn while I was dragging him. Blew most of his head off; I caught the blood and brains. Then he took a shot at me as I ran back inside. It was…close."

Judy was silent while Nick continued to calm his breathing. His eyes were closed, so she tugged her hand in his grasp. He looked up at her. "C'mere," she said. He scooted his chair closer. "Closer dumb fox!" She said, to which he frowned but followed her orders. She reached and tugged his ear until his jaw rested on her abdomen. She then proceeded to massage and scratch around his ears and neck with her paw. He sucked in another breath as his shoulders immediately slackened.

"I'm here for you, Nick, always remember that. I know I can't always do much for you, being a dumb bunny and all, but I'll always be willing to try."

"Mmm…you're doing plenty," came his muffled response, his voice laced with relaxation. She giggled as he gave another satisfied moan into her blanket.

"If you ever need someone to make you feel better, you know who to go to," she said, smirking as she found a particularly knotted muscle between his jaw and right ear.

"Yes ma'am…do I have a problem with that? No…no I do not…"

The door lock gave its signature unlatching noise, then opened to reveal a lynx carrying some bottles of water. "Midnight watering for Miss Hopps," he said, his Scandinavian accent thick. He chuckled through his nose when he saw what was going on.

"Yes, thank you," Judy said.

The cat set the bottles on a table and pulled a couple small plastic cups out of a cabinet, then approached her right side. He reached below her line of sight, the pulled up what appeared to be some sort of remote control with a wire running to the bed below her. "If you should ever need anything," he said, depositing it onto the bed beside her, "just use this, it send us alerts so that you don't have to get up or trouble someone else to come get us."

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't see that."

"It's quite alright, you just woke up," the lynx said with a friendly smile. "This button here," he said, clicking one on the remote, "gives you a prescribed dose of painkillers. Every few hours or so, when the pain starts to get really bad, click it and you will feel better. Also, very sleepy."

"Whooaa…" Judy said as she suddenly felt exactly what the lynx was talking about: bliss, painlessness, and intense drowsiness. The lynx chuckled and said something to Nick, who nodded before the nurse left.

Judy peered at Nick with a smirk, who looked like he had just awakened himself. "Now I 'ave a secrt weapn to use agains' you," she slurred, "I jus' rub your head and boom…sleepy foz."

He smiled, then leaned in to kiss her forehead.

"Ah-ah." She held up a finger. "Do i' properly." She pointed to her lips.

OOO

Nick smiled to himself as he glided along in traffic. That bunny was so stinking cute. She'd fallen asleep _while_ they had kissed, no more than two seconds into it. It was the most adorable thing he'd ever witnessed.

When he'd risen early that morning, she was still passed out in the same position: on her back, head hanging to the left. He found that her words, wonderful skull massage, and lovable kiss had meant that he could fall asleep without unpleasant memories and images torturing him. They had come later in the night, two different times, the second of which was around 6:30 AM. At that point he'd just decided to get up and make the most of his day.

"Nice. So nice. Awesome job," he said to no one, giving a sarcastic thumbs-up to the car that jammed itself into his lane before him with nary a warning nor blinker. He certainly wouldn't have to deal with that in a squad car…

No, he had decided driving a black and white police vehicle around would be a tad conspicuous. Nick suspected he was being watched already, but there was a chance that he'd be harder to detect in his own car. To accomplish this, he'd taken a taxi from the hospital to his house. It was the first time he'd been there since the morning of the station explosion.

" _In half a mile, turn left onto Galapagos Avenue_ ," his navigation app said, shaking him from his thoughts.

Five minutes later, he had reached his destination: Chip Moose's Garage and Restorations was not a subtle building, but by no means garish. Its main theme colors were red and white, corners were rounded off. The roofline swept like a wave or mid-fifties hairdo over the soft edges. The words were done in a flowing style, and looked to light up at night. The parking lot was very clean, as was the whole facility, which made perfect sense considering the types of cars that dotted property: three Duesenbergs, a Pierce-Arrow, two Rolls Royces (one brand new and one at least seventy years old), an E-Type Jag, a Bentley Blower, and what looked to be a Bizzarrini, all mixed in with slightly less expensive and rare autos. Nick had a moderate interest in cars, but most of those that drew his fancy were far out of his budget, meaning parking lot was essentially filled with pornography.

After realizing he'd stopped dead just inside the perimeter he closed his gaping mouth and carefully searched for a place to park. He pulled into a space with a more plain-looking vintage car on the right and a Porsche on the left. Sounds of pneumatic ratchets, hammers, grinders and welding equipment filtered out of the three rolled up garage doors of the complex. He locked his car and sauntered toward the shop where three mechanics stood in a circle in the shade beside the building. All had Styrofoam cups and two were smoking; a badger, a gnu, and a hyena, the last of which noticed him first, giving him a curious look and walking forward in greeting. Foxes apparently weren't normal customers.

"Good day to you, sa." The hyena sounded fresh off a boat from the African continent, probably Nigeria. He wore the dark blue mechanic's overalls of the rest of the staff, but his was tied at the waist, a grease-stained and dirty white T-shirt covering his muscular upper body. "Can I 'elp you?"

"Yes," Nick said, giving his best friendly smile he used to reserve for hustling purposes and pulling out his badge, "I'm with the ZPD and just needed to ask your manager or boss a few questions about one of your former employees."

"Lucky fo' you I am d'e general managa'," the hyena said. "Who a' you lookin' fo'?"

"Good, good!" Nick said, pocketing his badge. He glanced around, "The thing is that he's been murdered, so it may be best for me to ask questions somewhere less conspicuous."

The hyena's eyes widened. "Oh…I see. Follow me." He led them into the closest garage door, past a space where four mechanics were hard at work on different parts of a late 40s Mercury, obviously belonging to a giraffe customer based on the ridiculously tall roofline. Nick had to keep himself from staring at the other two cars in the remaining spaces lest he start drooling.

After a short trek through a small corridor, they came to what looked like the hyena's office. Nick's guess had been correct: dotting the walls were pictures of what looked like children and other citizens of some kind of village or community that the hyena came from, much of which was also pictured. The hyena himself was present in many of the photographs, and a small Nigerian flag hung on a stick which crossed over another flag bearing the emblem of what was probably a sports team, most likely football or rugby.

The hyena sat at his relatively uncluttered desk and opened a drawer by his left foot. "What was 'is name?"

"Conacher, Jeremy Conacher," Nick said, "What can I call you?"

"Call me Abebi," he said as the sound of flipping files commenced. "Conacha', Conacha'," he muttered. "Ah, heah we go!" Abebi's face fell as he opened the file to the first page.

"Anything wrong?" Nick asked. What if the file was tampered with?

"I rememba' 'im now, 'e 'asn't come into work fo' two weeks. D'e boys ah starting to miss 'im. We call' 'im 'orns.'"

"Horns, huh?" Nick took the offered folder and opened it, absently scanning through it as he spoke. "Would you say he was well-liked?"

"I would say so; 'e always 'ad a good joke waiting, and 'e liked to treat us to doughnuts. Nice guy."

"Was he ever rude to any customers? Did he ever do anything that might have made a customer angry? I can only imagine screwing up something on one of these super expensive cars." It was a shot in the dark, but Nick knew he had to start digging somewhere.

"I 'aven't 'eard anyt'ing like d'at, I would be d'e first to know."

"Hmm." The file looked clean so far, nothing bad stuck out. No criminal record, not even a parking ticket. "Do you know if he was involved in drug or criminal activity?"

"If 'e was I don't t'ink 'e'd be working heah," Abebi said with a shrug.

Nick swore under his breath. This wasn't, of course, an impossibility, but most people around someone tend to notice eventually when that someone is involved in those kinds of underworld activities. Then, a thought occurred to him, "Did you ever meet his parents?"

"D'ey came by on occasion, neva go' to talk much. D'ey would always 'urry out when Chip was in. I don' t'ink d'ey like each odah."

"Do you know why that would be the case?"

Abebi shoulders bobbed up and down once again. "It is not my place to ask."

Nick nodded, closing the folder. He had to get to the records office, this whole incident was pointing more and more towards Jeremy's father than anyone else. He was about to hand the folder back when Abebi frowned and half-stood to look down the corridor. Nick followed his gaze, but there was no one there, just the tip of a brown tail disappearing around the corner of the door frame.

"Miss, ah you lost?" Abebi said as he rose and walked to the doorway. "Hello?"

Nick stood and followed, leaving the file on the desk. There was nobody in the hallway.

"'ow streange," Abebi said, scratching his chin, "I 'aven't seen a fossa in a long time. Very long time."

"But where'd she go?" Nick scanned the short hallway, noting no movement from the potted plant and remembering no sound of a shutting door.

"Per'aps it was my imagination?"

"Might've been," Nick said with a shrug. "This case has me pretty jumpy to be honest, so I can understand."

"Ah, well, I 'ope you find who you ah lookin' fo'," the hyena said, extending his paw.

"Thank you for your time and information, Abebi."

The hyena's paw was much bigger than Nick's, and he had a grip that was even stronger than Bogo's. They shook, and Nick tried not to grimace.

"It is no problem," Abebi said, then smirked. "I noticed you eyeing some of d'e merchandise, would you like a closah look?"

"What, the cars?" Nick asked, "Am I even allowed to be near them?"

"I will supavize," the hyena said with a wink, "Jus' don' touch d'em."

"Yes sir, I can do that," Nick said, saluting for effect. Abebi only chuckled, then led him back out the same corridor.

Nick glanced around, keeping his eyes open for a fossa. He wasn't even sure what he was looking for; there were only two fossas in Zootopia that he knew about, and neither of them were female. One was elderly and spent his days fishing on the docks and drinking beer, the other was the adopted son of a pub owner in the Rainforest district. If this fossa was real and not just a mutual figment of his and Abebi's imaginations, then he may have another lead. He made a mental note to check security camera footages from the buildings neighboring the ZPD station and Chip Moose's garage.

"Ah," Abebi said, arms stretched out on either side, "D'is beauty right heah." The hyena stopped in front of the car in the middle stall of the garage. It was a lovely shade of burgundy, and the hood was raised while two mechanics stood across from one another, arms buried deep within the engine compartment.

"Aston-Martin, right?" Nick said.

"DB6," Abebi confirmed, "T'ree hundred and eighty units of powah' in d'is one. We set 'er up wit' a custom engine, courtesy of Mista Moose. Zero to sixty in sevon seconds, and she co'nas flat. I t'ink Conacha did d'e suspension."

"Was that his specialty?"

"No, but d'ere was no one bettah at d'e time; Conacha was an interiah specialist."

Nick chuckled, "Did he ever mess up any upholstery with his hor-"

There it was, the fossa. She wore an unassuming baseball cap and aviators very similar to Nick's. Whether or not it was stolen, she also had on a dark blue mechanic's jumpsuit, most likely to blend in with the staff. She was attempting to unlock the door of a car, but her shaking hands dropped her keyring.

 _That_ was suspicious.

"H-hey! Excuse me!" Nick said, darting past the confused hyena. The fossa froze, peering at him over the roofline of the car she was behind.

"D'at is her, d'e fossa I-" Abebi began.

There wasn't so much an explosion as a quick, deafening blast that led to an instant, all-encompassing ring in Nick's ears. He was thrown forward, the back of his body pelted by various sizes of debris before the concrete dust and smoke billowed to consume him. Filtering over his deafness was the rumble of collapsing architecture and the crushing and bending of metal, the shattering of glass. In his delirium he scrambled forward; if he could just make it to the sunlight the building wouldn't collapse on him.

"Fuck!" He swore, directed at no one. He rolled onto his back, panting and coughing. "Abebi!"

What remained of the building was surrounded by chaos. Mechanics sprinted in all directions, one or two of them in project cars, fleeing the destruction. Some sported streams of blood flowing from various wounds, and some were merely bathed in concrete dust. A column of smoke rose into the air, casting a shadow over the ruined structure.

Nick tried to stand, but wobbled and fell to his knees. Touching the back of his head, his fingers came back bloody. On the edge of his awareness was the sound of a car trying to start. "Abebi!" He shouted again.

Relief bubbled through the panic as he saw the dust-covered hyena stumbling out of the rubble. The good feelings were quickly dashed as Abebi collapsed, hand on the back of his right leg. Nick crawled to him, and found that his right hamstring had a large gash across it, his back peppered with smaller cuts and punctures which were staining his white shirt red.

"I'll be okay!" Abebi growled, "Ge' d'at fossa! Make her pay!"

Nick heard the engine finally turn over. He didn't have much time. "I'll call this in!" He said, staggering to his car and retrieving his keys and phone. The device was unresponsive, the screen shattered. "Shit!" He swore, wrenching his door open after unlocking it. Just as his engine fired, he saw the fossa's car screech backwards out of its space, turn, and gun it for the exit. Nick followed suit, wishing now that he _had_ brought along a police cruiser, and sped after her.

Nick's car was essentially what most street racers referred to as a "sleeper." It was an older sedan, a model used by the police forces for decades before transitioning completely to the much bigger, intimidating vehicles previously reserved for rhino, hippo, and elephant cops. His was a civilian model, but he and Finnick had taken it to a friend to have it modified. It used to be their getaway vehicle, in case a con went south and they had to outpace police cruisers. Those were the days before the van and their smaller time hustles.

It seemed to be the case with the fossa's car as well: an older model, two doors, short trunk, long hood, and enough power to turn the tread on the rear tires into smoke. The vehicle tore sideways through the four-way intersection just as the light turned, Nick giving chase, struggling to hold the four-wheeled drift. They came out of it at the same time and powered down the now straight street.

Only the roaring of engines and the whoosh of the cars he passed filled his pounding head. This was probably the animal that mangled Judy for the rest of her life, the animal that killed fifteen of his fellow officers. Was she after _him_ now? Trying to finish a job she failed to complete? Whatever the answer, it was best to put a stop to her as soon as possible.

"Shit!" Nick swore, wrenching the wheel to the right to avoid the car sent slithering out of control by the fossa's strike. Another intersection rushed towards them, this time jammed with traffic stopped at a red light. The fossa's car tore across the road and bounced up onto the sidewalk, sending a multitude of animals sprinting out of the way, demolishing a newspaper stand on the way through. The curb ended, and the car spat onto the road again in a hard right, random papers flying off the front. Nick flew through the parted sea of gawkers and debris. The road began to drop steeply, the ocean looming large through the buildings on either side.

She was headed for the docks.

 _Thwak_! Something punched a hole through his windshield. Nick ducked as two more slammed into his car, one showering him in powdered glass. He regained his bearings in time to dodge a landscaping truck, clipping the end off of a poorly secured rake.

The fossa in front of him was using her mirror to aim, gripping a semi-automatic pistol backwards and thumbing the trigger. Nick's firearm lay unused in his glove compartment, but he would have to be nuts to use it when bystanders could be hurt, especially while driving a civilian vehicle.

The pair careened in a loud, high-speed left and rumbled across some train tracks, flying towards the industrial areas of town. _Looking to play some hide and seek in the shipping containers?_ Nick mused. But no, the fossa quickly diverted and smashed through a locked chain-link gate onto an abandoned service road.

Nick immediately reached for his weapon, unknowingly dodging three more shots as he bent. He fought to maintain control of both himself and the car.

"Alright fossa bitch," he said, pulling back the slide, "let's see how _you_ like it!" His window was down as fast as he could wind it, pistol and arm braced on the door of his car, nestled between the pillar and mirror. "Hah!" He shouted in triumph as his first round hit home. The rear window of the fossa's car shattered in a brilliant shower of broken glass, causing the occupant to duck, swerving instinctually. _You won't hurt anyone ever again, especially Judy!_

His next three shots were scattered all over the vehicle's body, not accomplishing much, but it felt good. Just as he was about to squeeze off a round into the rear tire, he noticed where they were headed: directly towards an old, derelict dock jutting out into the water. They bounded over the top of a small hill in the gravely road, the surface battering his suspension and making an accurate shot impossible. He swore; maybe he should try and P.I.T her.

As if predicting this move, the fossa swerved in front of him whenever he tried to attack the corner of her rear bumper. He rammed her out of frustration, the dock looming closer. Her gun was produced again. Sparks flew off his hood, followed by a billow of steam and oil splattering across his windshield. Nick cursed as he slammed his windshield wipers into action, but they weren't quick enough. The fossa's bumper seemed to hook onto his, forcing the front of his car into a sharp right. He tried to correct but lost the back end, careening the other way in a wild fishtail. He braced as he saw the old signal pole approaching beside a set of ancient train tracks.

In a locked-up screech, he impacted the pylon with a disheartening crunch and shattering of glass. He looked up just in time to see the fossa's car thump along the dock, then launch into the water. Shoving his door open, he immediately collapsed to the ground, his legs in full jelly mode. Standing with great effort, he noticed a blood stain seeping into being around his chest. He ran his hands up the back of his neck as he stumbled toward the dock; apparently his head wound was nastier than he'd first expected.

All he could find of the fossa's car was bubbles and foam where the vehicle impacted the water. He waited and watched for any bubbles or signs of life, listened for any sounds of splashing, or someone getting out of the water. But none came. After several minutes, his wobbling body gave up, and he collapsed onto his knees, after which he began the long, painful process of crawling back to his car.

"What the hell was that all about?" Came the scratchy voice of what looked to be a grizzled dock worker in the form of a lion, his mane wispy and body wiry.

"Do you…have…a phone?" Nick panted.

"Naw I don't, but there's a phone in the office you can use."


	9. Chapter 9

**Announcement!** **Announcement!**

I happened upon a moment of great inspiration just after posting the original version of this chapter. I do apologize for making anyone who has read this far RE-read this whole thing, but I made the chapter bigger and juicier as compensation. The story now has better focus and direction, so please excuse my disruption. Carry on.

Also, I do not own The Last Samurai.

* * *

Chapter 9: The Coded Call

 _Meanwhile, at the Safari Medical Center…_

The shake wasn't the best thing ever, but it wasn't horrible either. It was made from blended proteins from various types of beans as well as a smattering of other ingredients to make it palatable. It was the only thing she was allowed to 'eat' as her body was still recovering from being drugged. Nausea was usually a side-effect, but Judy had to consume _something_ with her metabolism being as high as it was.

So there she sat, bored, alternating between sipping the shake and water, trying to ignore the pain that thudded along the right side of her body. When she'd awakened, a nurse had come in to inform her that the prosthetics were ready, and that to link them up properly, Judy couldn't have anything dulling her senses. This made her both excited and apprehensive; she was going to be mobile again, have limbs, and able go back to work, but it was going to hurt. A lot.

But it was worth the pain. Some small part of her desperately wanted to see Nick's expression when she was walking again, to see some of his woes and guilt lift off his shoulders. The first thing she wanted to do was hug him with both arms.

The sound of her door unlocking interrupted her thoughts. The doe nurse that brought up the idea for her new prosthetics procedure walked in backwards, rolling yet another small cart of supplies. Following the cart was a kangaroo carrying long, rectangular cases, one larger than the other. He was dressed in a similar fashion to Dr. Otterton's usual attire, except that a pair of thick rubber gloves was stuffed into the breast pocket of his lab coat.

"Good morning dear," the doe said, "This is Dr. Bretz, our foremost synth-organic interface technician and the best guy for link-ups!"

"Nice to see you again Lacy," Judy said, then nodded to the kangaroo, "Pleased to meet you, sir."

"The pleasure is all mine." Dr. Bretz's Germanic accent took Judy completely off guard; she was expecting the full Aussie drawl. With no effort whatsoever, he hopped once and was by her bedside. It was rather impressive. He took her left paw in both of his. "To greet you properly, of course, is my preference. You have done so much for this city, it is simply an honor to meet someone of your repute."

"Oh w-well, thank you," she said, flattered, "Tell you what: I'll shake your hand properly once you get my right arm installed."

"That sounds agreeable," Dr. Bretz said with a smile and a nod. He sailed through the air once again, landing beside the cart and the cases he'd set on the floor with perfect precision. "But we will start with your leg. I'm sure you'd like to not be bed-ridden anymore." The kangaroo deposited the larger black case on the counter and the snapping of latches reached Judy's ears.

"I-wh…that's _mine_?" Judy asked in disbelief. The limb was sleek, modern. Her eyes traced over bits of carbon-fiber, titanium rods, and stainless steel plating. High-quality push-rods and hydraulic cylinders structured the knee and ankle. The whole form was a mechanical copy of her remaining leg, just mirrored, of course. Sky blue accents dotted the frame, filling out places where muscle and sinews would be on a flesh leg, places that any mechanical parts simply weren't necessary for function. It was artfully crafted, and much more than the 'blade' arrangement she was expecting, the standard for amputees who were active.

"Indeed it is," Dr. Bretz said, manually flexing the knee and ankle joints, holding the prosthetic to his ear as he did so. "Good, nothing is catching, and it seems the lubricants are doing their job," he mumbled to himself as he approached the side of her bed.

Lacy collapsed the small railing on the right side. "You'll have to face this way with your legs over the edge, would you like me to help you move?"

"I've got it," Judy said. Her efforts, in her mind, must have made her seem like a fish or a turtle flipped onto its back. She hadn't realized how hard changing direction and position was with two points of motor control and balance missing. She gasped slightly as the bottom of her hospital gown came up, exposing her lower half.

"Oops!" the doe said, reaching and pulling her gown back down. "I can hold this if you'd like."

Judy's face was hot. "Thanks." She was finally in position.

"Before we start," Dr. Bretz said, pulling on the rubber gloves, "I must warn you that the procedure is quite painful. I must also warn you that, due to the extent and positioning of your injuries and repairs, I may need to get more…intimate that you may perhaps be used to."

Judy's ears hat heated up by now. It was true: her leg ended mid-way up her thigh. If Dr. Bretz had to deal with anything at the upper end of the cap, given the size of his paws, there wasn't much, if any, room to maneuver. However, she reminded herself that he was a medical professional; there were no bodily secrets left for him to discover. "That's fine," she said.

Wordlessly, the kangaroo retrieved a small, soft wire brush from the cart, and began working it around the inside of the cap on her leg. Satisfied, he then grabbed a plastic device that resembled a pencil with a tiny light in place of an eraser. It illuminated as he worked his way in a circle within the cap, touching what seemed like fifty different points. He nodded sagely. "All diodes and conductors functioning normally." He repeated the process with the top of the leg, netting the same result. He turned back to her, "This is the part where I must excuse my reach."

"Whatever is necessary," Judy said with a determined nod. He returned the gesture.

He held the thigh of the prosthetic in his right hand, placing his left on her lower back to brace her, and slowly slid the limb into the socket. He added more and more pressure until there was an audible _click_ that Judy felt reverberate through her.

"That wasn't so bad," she said.

"That was only the preliminary fitting," Dr. Bretz said, tone flat.

"Oh."

Like a maestro, his hands worked around the leg, locking things into place, rotating here, tightening there. He stepped back, inspecting his work. Then he produced a small Allen wrench. "This is the part that hurts."

"A-alright…"

"I'll count you down," he said, kneeling by her right side. He slid the key into a previously unseen space in the cap. "Three-"

He turned it immediately. Every muscle in Judy's body suddenly went stiff. Her back arched, her eyes fully widened, and her mouth soundlessly gaped as she bucked. The pain was eye-watering. Fantastic. Like nothing she'd ever experienced before. Gideon Grey's scratch was limp dick. Running into the tusk in the Natural History Museum while escaping from Bellwether was tasting Jäger-Meister for the first time. The remorse she felt for turning a city against itself while hurting Nick in the process was a smack on the butt with a wooden spoon. This had no equal. After an eternity, her body came down off its pain-mountain and allowed her vocal chords to produce a primitive, wailing groan. She fell back onto the bed, gasping raggedly. "Sweet…cheese and…crackers!" She finally let go of the ball of sheets she had created with her left paw. She heard the latches of the other case opening as she stared at the ceiling with watering eyes.

"However unpleasant it is," Bretz said as he flexed the elbow and wrist of her new arm, "the pain is an excellent indicator that everything is working properly."

"Oh good, wonderful," Judy said between pants. Her thigh twitched randomly, her whole body tremoring in waves. The pain had dulled down to pound alongside her heartbeat as only the second highest scoring agony she'd ever felt…the first being the initial wave just moments ago.

Dr. Bretz's brush and lighted-pencil tool was produced again, this time poking around her arm for much longer than he spent with her leg. She heard him counting under his breath until he reached one hundred and seventy six. "The arm, you see, with its articulated wrist and paw structure, is exceedingly complicated." He was silent as he checked the interface on the arm itself before adding simply, "This will hurt more."

Judy just nodded, mentally bracing herself and sitting up to give the kangaroo a better angle of attack.

"I do apologize, would you hold it here?" Bretz asked, indicating the prosthetic's forearm, "I need to brace against the elbow and this will keep it bent."

"Of course," Judy said, taking hold of the cold, lifeless limb. It was surprisingly lightweight.

Bretz placed one palm on the elbow, and his other on her shoulder. He pressed his hands toward each other, increasing in strength until there was another _pop_ , indicating the two pieces had met and set. "Thank you," he said, taking the forearm in his own paw, "I can take it from here." Once again his hands moved in a flurry of adjustments, tightenings, and settings.

Then he produced the key. Judy swallowed. The Allen wrench was black, shiny and menacing. Bretz slid it into place on the inside of her bicep.

"Are you going to count me down again?" Judy asked with a hint of sarcasm.

"I don't have to-"

This time, Judy had the wherewithal to release a sustained, high-pressure whimper as her body attempted to curl into a ball. Tears simply flooded out of her eyes. Every rushed breath she sucked in supplied a primal cry on the way back out. White spots danced across her vision, and her head began to pound with the amount of blood her now-stone abs were pushing into it. " _ **HOLY! FUCKING! COCKWAFFLE!**_ " She finally shrieked.

"I was wondering when your filter would be overrun," Dr. Bretz said with a chortle," But this is a good thing. We'll give your body and limbs a couple minutes to settle, then we'll try some basic movements." He turned to begin packing some supplies away.

"You did wonderfully," Lacy said, having been silent the entire time. She gave Judy a pat on her flesh knee. Judy just gave her a wide-eyed stare.

After a few minutes, Judy's breathing and heartrate had slowed down. The pain had died down a little too, but its presence was still very obvious, just washing over the right side of her body like the surf of a sadistic ocean. Through the fog, however, on the edge of her consciousness was a new sensation. It wasn't quite like her limbs were still there, but she was aware of… _something_ that hadn't been there before.

"Alright," Dr. Bretz said, checking his watch, "We should be good to go. Can you give me a thumbs-up?"

Judy looked down at her arm, unsure of how to go about this. She tried envisioning her arm rising with a closed fist and jutting thumb, but nothing happened. Her new hand just sat in her lap, palm facing the ceiling, fingers loosely curled.

"Don't think about it directly," Lacy said, "the less mental effort you put into it, the easier it will be. Think of it like you never lost your arm."

"Sorry, this whole situation is a lot to think about," she said, lifting her shoulders and spreading her hands, "I mean, how am I going to drive or hold a firearm if I can't even – HOLY MOTHER OF CANINES!" She suddenly realized that both of her arms had moved when she'd shrugged. The tip-off had come from the brightening expressions of the doctors opposite her. She stared uneasily at her new paw, straightening the fingers one at a time, then making a fist, turning her wrist to inspect the back of her hand. Glancing at Dr. Bretz, she easily gave him a thumbs-up.

"Excellent, all motor functions seem normal," the kangaroo muttered as his pen flew across a clipboard he produced. "Lacy, the ball, if you please."

The doe pressed a stress ball into the palm of her mechanical hand. "Squeeze this please," she said with a smile.

Judy did just that, noticing a small amount of unconscious feedback. The best thing her mind could relate it to would be playing a very advanced driving simulation game and comparing it to the real-world act. Both are similar, as well as extremely different in some respects, but each are close enough to be able to function in both worlds using similar concepts and trains of thought.

"And perhaps an ankle twist?" Dr. Bretz inquired.

Went the extra mile and straightened her knee before giving her ankle a few rotations in either direction.

"Excellent!"

The phone on the wall beside the door suddenly rang.

"I'll get it," Lacy said, bounding over to end its electronic wailing. "Hello? Carrots? Who's-oh Judy? Yes, she's here."

"That must be Nick," Judy said, ears straight up. Why would he be calling her? Why had 'Carrots' been the first word out of his mouth? She absent-mindedly slid off the bed and walked over to the phone before she saw the astonished stare on Dr. Bretz's face. Apparently walking was supposed to be a big step, but it had been a pure doddle. Besides, she wasn't thinking about that.

"I'll put her on," Lacy said, handing over the phone with a wink.

"Thank you," Judy said before pressing the device to her ear, "Hello? Nick?"

" _Carrots! How's your day going?_ " Nick said on the other end. The sarcastic way he spoke hinted at some kind of annoyance or frustration.

"It's…it's had its ups and downs, but I'm much better now." She didn't want to give away the surprise that she was walking already. "What's up with you?"

" _Well…lots of things. It's a lot to explain fully, so I'll do that in person. Suffice to say, there was another bombing, but this time I know who did it. I managed to chase her to the old docks and lose her though. I'll be calling Bogo and the rest of the guys after this._ "

"Oh jeeze Nick! Are you alright?"

" _For the most part, just some scratches here and there. That and I screwed up my car. It'll probably have to be impounded for evidence anyway, seeing as it's full of bullet holes..._ "

"What?!" Judy's heartrate spiked. _Bullet holes?!_

" _Don't worry, Fluff, none of them hit me,_ " Nick said in a calming tone, " _I just wanted to fill you in and make sure you didn't fret about me when something comes on the news._ "

"Nick, you know I won't relax until I see you in person again, right?"

" _Of course, but I figured this would take the edge off of your self-induced suffering on my part._ "

She could hear his smirk through the phone. She huffed and rolled her eyes. "Alright then. Call Bogo and the rest of the guys and get yourself back here."

" _Alright, will do._ "

"See you then."

" _I'm looking forward to it._ "

"Bye."

" _Bye_."

Judy returned the phone to its receiver and turned to the medical staff in the room. Dr. Bretz was already packing his supplies away, and Lacy was preparing some kind of tote bag.

"Seeing as you're a much quicker learner than I anticipated," Bretz said, straightening and loping over to her, "my work is done here." He handed her a business card. "If you ever have any kind of trouble, give this number a call. Either I or my assistant will answer and will hopefully be able to sort out any issues you may have. Besides that, keep your limbs away from extreme heat, be careful around exposed electrics, and try not to freeze them. Sand is bad if exposed to the joints for too long, but a simple rinse should clear up the risks. They are completely waterproof and there is no need to take them off unless a significant problem develops."

"Sounds good," Judy said, extending her hand, "Thank you for everything. I'm going to get my life back."

Dr. Bretz took her paw in both of his, "That is precisely why I do this work; it brings me great joy to hear you say that." He smiled and winked at her. "Be careful out there."

"Yes sir," Judy said, nodding.

Dr. Bretz gathered his things and left. The sounds of his bounding gait could be heard from the hallway as the door slowly slid shut against its pneumatic closer. Lacy stood in the room, gripping the tote's handles in both hands and beaming.

"He's impressed," She said, "no one has ever learned to use their new limbs as fast as you did. It gives him hope."

"Oh I'm sure I'll have lots of stumbles along the way," Judy said, absent-mindedly scratching her neck. "What's in the bag?"

"Just some things to help you take care of your prosthetics. There's a small service manual, brushes, some lubricants, stuff like that."

"Awesome!" Judy said. Then a couple of thoughts hit her. "So does that mean I'm free to go?"

"I believe so, yes," Lacy said, setting the tote on Judy's bed, "there's just some paperwork to sign and stuff, but your ZPD insurance plan fully covered any treatments you underwent, so you don't need to worry about that."

"That's…wow," Judy said, blinking. Just another plus of the job. "The next question is…would I be allowed to shower? The follow-up to that is, of course, how I'm going to find clothes. My uniform's pretty shredded, if I can recall."

"That won't be a problem; we can provide you with some clean, plain clothes. I can take you to the showers if you'd like, we can take care of the paperwork on the same trip."

"Sounds good," Judy said, taking hold of the tote and starting to walk towards the door. She stopped suddenly, glancing at the empty cot in the room. "What about Nick's stuff?"

"We'll have someone take care of that, don't worry," Lacy said. "He can come by and pick it up or we can mail it to him."

"I'll just take it after I shower, it's not much."

"Whatever floats your boat!"

...

Nick grimaced and hissed through his teeth. "Ah! Ease up there, slick, I'm not going anywhere." The raccoon holding the alcohol-soaked cotton ball didn't say anything, just continued dabbing the various cuts and punctures arrayed across Nick's back and shoulders. The wound on the back of his head turned out to be just a nasty cut, nothing life-threatening or concussion-worthy. Nevertheless, it hurt quite a lot, and it would require stitches or staples.

From the vantage point of the ambulance bumper, Nick could see three other squad cars, a fire engine, and an approaching crane. Officers and dock workers milled about talking while some detectives and inspectors were giving the dock a good look and tracing the tire marks all over the wharf. The blues and reds of rotating emergency lights whirled in lazy arcs, any sirens used on their approach silenced. Nick saw Officer McHorn holding the crane at bay while forensics teammates took pictures of the area, placing small scraps of numbered paper beside any bullet casings or piles of broken automotive glass.

"Wilde," came Chief Bogo's voice. Nick turned to his left to see the massive cape buffalo approaching, still leaning on his cane, which didn't look near hearty enough to take the strain. Nick felt exposed under Bogo's gaze, especially with his shirt off, the second Hawai'ian shirt ruined in two days draped beside him.

"Hey Chief, how's the other hot mess looking?" Nick asked, indicating Chip Moose's garage, to which he sent any police and ambulances in the area first if they hadn't arrived already.

"No casualties this time, apart from some expensive cars," Bogo replied gruffly. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"Sir?"

"The safety of the citizens of Zootopia is your primary concern, Officer Wilde, your own being a close second. You disregarded both. What did you think could be gained from pursuing this perpetrator through crowded streets, _while_ they were shooting at you?"

Nick tossed around for the right words. He hadn't really given any thought to the implications when he'd sped off in pursuit of the fossa. Part of him was confident that he could pass it off as just good intention, that if he'd apprehended the suspect, the streets would be safer, no longer subject to future bombings by her paws. The other side of him told him that wasn't good enough. It may have been a contributing concept present in his mind in the moment, but it was not the core of what drove him, literally, to follow. He knew it was based on revenge. Revenge for putting the mechanics' lives in danger at Chip Moose's Garage. Revenge for the fifteen officers massacred at the station. And especially revenge for maiming Judy, for making him the cause of her injuries, whether directly or not. But these weren't things he could tell his chief officer.

"I don't have an answer, sir," he said at long last.

Bogo was silent for a long time before speaking. "I know vigilante justice can be the most satisfying form of judgement, especially when you are in the moral and objective right." He glanced at the scene to his left, speaking as he surveyed the docks. "I also happen to know that camaraderie and love is what keeps a police force together, and that those two forces are the perfect breeding points for vengeful emotions. We want to hurt those who hurt our friends; it's only natural." He turned to face Nick. "But this can create recklessness, and carelessness. That is when animals get hurt, or worse."

Nick swallowed, suddenly very aware of his situation.

Bogo tapped the ground twice with his cane. "I won't give _all_ of the details in my report, and neither should you. Pursuing the suspect is permitted if the cause is probable, which it was."

"Yes, sir," Nick said meekly. Bogo was cutting him a break.

"Take tomorrow off. Look after Officer Hopps. Aside from family, an officer's partner is the key to their mental and emotional recovery. If more time is needed, let me know, but don't squander my charity. We need good cops like her. Like you."

Nick could only nod.

Bogo sniffed, shifting his gaze to the sea behind Nick, in front of the ambulance in which he sat. "I'll assign Delgado to escort you to the hospital and then home. We'll provide you with an extra unmarked police vehicle tomorrow if you require it."

"I can take a taxi or something, it's fine," Nick said with a dismissive wave.

"The situation is very _un_ -fine as far as I'm concerned. Whoever these people are," he indicated the end of the dock where the submerged car lay, "they know too much and I need you to be mobile."

"If you insist."

Bogo nodded with a snort, looking Nick dead in the eye. "Be careful, Wilde. I've temporarily promoted you to detective in the system so you can have access to any information or files you need. Same goes for Officer Hopps. Contact us at the first sign of trouble."

"Yes sir," Nick said, nodding.

OOO

"Asha," Mr. White said, stretching the syllables and being purposefully guttural, "Asha, Asha, _Asha_."

The fossa's head was bowed like a child being disciplined by her father or schoolteacher. Her ever-moving hands were behind her back, long tail twitching nervously. Mr. White could see that she knew she had messed up.

"That was rather sloppy of you, don't you think?"

"Y-yes, indeed it was sir. I-I won't let it happen again-ever. Ever, ever."

"Gooood." Mr. White leaned back and steepled his claws. He let the silence stretch on. The fossa's eyes traced patterns in the floor.

With all of the strength and speed he could muster, using his pent-up rage and frustration as a spring, he suddenly leaped up from his chair and slammed his clawed hands into his desk. Asha's eyes were wide with terror and she had snapped into a defensive body position. She stared up at his towering figure. He stalked around the desk towards her, thudding footfalls reverberating around the room. The floor sagged as he circled her, taking deep breaths, dragging his claws across the desk when he completed the loop. He bent his long neck to speak directly into her ear. "This _will not_ happen again, am I clear?"

The fossa nodded silently.

"This isn't your first strike; my patience for your antics is running _thin_. But I still have use of you." Without moving his head, he reached towards his desk and retrieved a multiple-paged document. "This is your new shopping list. Follow it exactly. Consider this to be your _final_ warning."

The fossa took the papers, and made her way out of the room, body still tense, not saying a word.

Mr. White gave a frustrated sigh and sat at his desk again, leaning back and wiping his blood-weeping eyes. The flashes were coming back; they always made their presence known when he grew angry or threatened to lose control. His fists clenched as the sounds of gunfire echoed in his head; his mate's scream filtered through the darkness like a gust of wind in a still cave. The eyes of his little Minninnewah, wide open, lifeless, stared at him from across the room. Micco and Aleshanee lay propped up against one another in the other corner, bullet holes in each of their foreheads cascading blood in a spider web down each of their faces. He could hear the snarls of his elders, the shouts of his fellow warriors, the wails of and for the dead, last cries of those who knew the approach of darkness.

He pulled a bundle of cloth out of a desk drawer and unfolded it to reveal four wooden figurines, carved representations of his family. He tenderly kissed each one of them before sobbing, the anger squeezing his fist shut around them.

He would have his revenge. It's what made all the effort spent up to this point worth it, all the diplomacy with the underworld leaders, all the preparations, all the charades. He turned to glare at the barely conscious tigress strapped to the chair behind him.

It was almost time.

OOO

"Thanks Delgado, I owe you one," Nick said.

The big cat snorted. "You owe me a few, just add this one to the list." Then he smiled, "Catch a game of pool sometime, yea?"

"Absolutely," Nick said, returning the fist bump.

"Adios." Delgado pulled away from the curb, turning left at the end of the block to rejoin the main road.

Nick turned to his humble abode, taking in a breath of night air. The bungalow was a bit of an oddity in the neighborhood for two reasons: one, it had the best kept exterior, and two, it was the smallest on the block. Sandwiched between two larger homes, it broke the line of carbon-copies that extended both ways down the street. The first was as a result of having moved back onto Mr. Big's good side, meaning a weekly yard-maintenance service to help his personal florist's (Mr. Otterton's) business grow. The second was because the previous owner of the house was a stubborn old armadillo who wouldn't budge no matter how much money the city offered to have him move. So, they built around it. No one else in the area wanted it, so Nick jumped at the opportunity and scored a reduced price.

Nick sidled up the steps, tote bag in one hand, keyring in the other. As soon as he touched the key to his deadbolt lock, something became immediately apparent. His door, when unlocked, wasn't pressed entirely against the edge of the frame. It was by no means a noticeable gap to anyone else; it just meant that the deadbolt wasn't putting any tension on the door, and therefore the doorframe. He also noted the absence of any mail or papers, which he never cancelled.

Someone had been here.

No…someone was _still_ here. He drew in a breath silently, hoping not to alert the intruder to his presence. The scent was familiar.

Slowly, silently, he turned the door handle, which was, indeed, unlocked, and pushed the door open. The hinges used to squeal upon entering, but a douse of WD-40 had solved that issue months ago. It glided soundlessly in its arc, light from the evening sun filtering in behind him, casting his shadow on the hardwood floor of his nook. The scent was stronger now.

What if someone was lying in wait for him? The fossa? Another one of Mr. White's goonies? Mr. White obviously had the capabilities to figure out where Nick lived, so it made perfect sense to attack where Nick was most vulnerable. The fox's hackles were up, his primal senses elevated. He took another breath of air through his nose.

What first struck him as odd was the smell of cooked food, the evidence of which sat on the stove in a pot, his rice-cooker still steaming. Vegetable curry. Nick scowled. Passing through the kitchen and beneath the door-less threshold, he came to his living room.

The tote dropped to the floor. Curled into a ball beneath an afghan blanket on his loveseat, ears drooping behind her slumbering head, was Judy Hopps.

His heart swelled. He couldn't help it; she was _so_ cute, especially in that moment. _And_ she had made dinner. Glancing at the coffee table in front of the couch, he found that she also had collected all of his mail. Oh dear. It was too much.

"Hey Carrots," he said, having walked over to knelt by her. He stroked her arm as she stirred. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Mmm…hey Nick," she said, blinking at him with heavy eyelids and smiling. "I…I hope you don't mind the intrusion."

"Oh not at all, I just wish I would have known; I'd have cleaned up the place a little."

"Psh, there's no mess to speak of," Judy said, then stretched and yawned, the afghan falling off of her. "Besides, I thought making dinner would be the first step in a series of thank you's for your support over the past week…what's that look?"

Nick wasn't sure either. Whatever his face was doing only mirrored his melting heart. "Aww Fluff, you didn't have to go and do all of that. Also…your arm."

"Oh! Oh yea!" Judy said, springing up and wrapping Nick in a tight hug. The fox wobbled, then toppled onto his back, obviously not expecting the move. The rabbit came down with him, still clutching him in her arms.

"Whoa!" Nick exclaimed, "I see everything works!"

"Nick, you wouldn't believe it if I told you, but these things are so cool!"

"I believe you," Nick said as Judy sat up beside him. She wore a simple blue t-shirt and khaki pants, but in that moment she couldn't have been dreamier.

"And of course I had to 'do all that.' I owe you my life, Nick, it's the least I can do to throw some food together so you don't have to make it yourself."

Nick smirked. "Well, they say the way to a guy's heart is through his stomach so I can't blame you there."

"I've heard it's a bit lower down," Judy warbled, playfully tapping his nose. Nick waggled his eyebrows, to which Judy chuckled. "One step at a time. Let's get you fed, I'm sure you're starving after the day you've had." She stood and waltzed into the kitchen, glancing in a sultry manner over her shoulder at him.

"You're not wrong," Nick said. He rose stiffly, his skin tight across his back, bandages tugging at his fur under his Hawai'ian shirt. "So what plans did you have for the rest of the evening, if any?"

"I didn't really have any," she said amidst the clatter of utensils and metallic lids. "I'm basically fresh out of the hospital, so nothing _too_ active."

"In that case, let me introduce you to my masterful DVD collection," Nick said with a smirk.

OOO

The fox stared down at the quarters in his paw. One was brand new, two were at least forty years old, the profiled head of one of the founding fathers of Animalia, the lion George Washington, stamped onto one side, noble as ever. He only required one of them for this call; the other two were the safety net.

He glanced down at his small carry-on he'd pulled into the phone booth with him, then up at the surrounding animals in the airport terminal. All of these faces, these beings, so oblivious, so free of knowledge and the stresses it brought with it. The fox had probably seen some of them before, watching silently as one of many intended targets passed by the unsuspecting pedestrians, all forgotten, washed away with the tide of faces that made their way across his lenses, the flood of voices that reverberated through his hidden microphones and bugs.

" _We will now begin boarding flight 581 with Virgin Atlantic Airlines bound for Thailand. Please stand in your designated line with your boarding passes ready,_ " A woman's voice said over a loudspeaker. There was a massed rustling as a hundred or so mammals stood and filed forward.

The time was now.

The fox deposited all three coins into the phone slot and dialed the number he, before, would have bet his life he'd never use. His grip tightened as the ring-tone buzzed.

Mr. White had to be stopped. This was the only way. The world would know soon enough, but Nick had to know first.

OOO

" _But we cannot forget who we are…or where we come from._ "

A tear fell from Nick's already moistened eyes as the young emperor, a sika deer, stared down at the samurai sword, his imperial staff lining the hall in a perfectly straight line on either side of the narrow throne room. They were all dressed in western clothing from the 1870's, all Japanese animals.

Except for the wolf bowing before the emperor, knuckles to the floor, gazing up with intensity as his eyes formed tears at the young ruler's words; his uniform was Animalian military.

" _Ambassador Swanbeck,_ " the deer fixed the pig with a steely gaze, " _I have concluded that your treaty is not in the best interests of my people._ "

" _Sir,_ " the pig began, " _if I may-_ "

" _So sorry. But you may not._ "

" _This…is an OUT-rage,_ " the swine said, anger obviously bubbling over. He turned and left, his gnu translator giving a curt bow before following to make up for his employer's lack of diplomacy.

" _Your Highness, we should discuss this-_ " Omura, the emperor's chief advisor began in Japanese.

" _Omura…you have done quite enough,_ " the young emperor stated, not facing the black bear.

" _Everything I've done I have done for my country,_ " Omura said in a lecturing tone, one he had used throughout the movie.

" _Then you will not mind when I seize your family's assets and present them as my gift to the people,_ " the emperor snapped back in rapid-fire Japanese, the prostrate Animalian wolf smirking at his enemy's misfortune.

The bear looked horrified. " _You disgrace me!_ "

" _If the shame is too much to bear,_ " the deer glanced at the menacing sword in his hand, holding out the weapon in its black sheath to the bear. Omura's eyes slid from the sword to the bowing wolf, then back to the weapon. " _I offer you this sword_." The bear, defeated, unable to brave the honorable ritual of seppuku, deflated, and stepped down, back into line with the rest of the staff and advisors.

The emperor's attention returned to the groveling wolf, whom he kneeled in front of. " _Tell me how he died._ " He commanded, referencing his master and the leader of the final group of recently massacred samurai, leading the final, glorious charge of the last glimmer of an entire way of life head-on into a line of Gatling-guns, Catsumoto.

Nick knew the line was coming. His body and emotions anticipated it, throat already closing, chest already tightening, eyes primed to explode.

The wolf's gaze travelled slowly, painfully up to meet the young emperor's. Any movement took great effort due to the serious wounds hidden beneath his Animalian cavalry uniform.

The beautiful music swelled, cello singing the lead parts.

" _I will tell you…how he lived._ "

Nick's eyes were waterfalls. A sniff escaped his muzzle, but otherwise, the two of them were silent, and absolutely still. The room was warmed by the emotions, and Nick suspected that Judy didn't want him to see her crying over such a pitiful thing as a movie. It was good that his head was behind hers, the two stuffed into the corner of Nick's couch, Judy in the fox's lap.

Once the credits rolled, both stretched, and turned to look at each other. Nick giggled as he saw the wet fur beneath her eyes. "You bunnies, so emotional."

"Pfft." Judy playfully swiped at him. "I'm not crying, you're crying."

"Nu-uh, that's just because…I'm tired and was yawning…a bunch." Nick deflected, quite poorly. She flashed him a knowing smile as she turned to face him, sitting between his feet. "Fine, okay. I'm balling like a newborn. This movie plucks my emotional strings just right, you know?"

"I can see why," Judy said, shaking her head, "it's always sad to witness the extermination of an entire way of life like that."

"Exactly. It's the ideas in the movie that make me cry."

"Hmm…I like your movie selection. They make you think. I was expecting just a bunch of raunchy comedies and B-rated martial arts action thrillers."

Nick put a paw to his chest in an overly dramatic show of offense. "What kind of fox do you think I am?"

She thought for a moment. "A very good one."

"Such high praise. That's the kind of emotional support I need out there," he answered sarcastically. Judy giggled.

"So, Mr. Wilde," she began with a smirk, "Do you find life in every breath, like the movie says?"

"Hmm…yes, but only for the past year or so." He gave her a half-lidded gaze, hoping it conveyed his sentiment in a wordless manner: that _she_ was the reason for his renewed vigor and outlook on life. The air did seem cleaner to breathe since they met.

"Really?" She asked, leaning towards him, "Why's that?"

He grinned at her sultry expression. "Well, there's this special someone that came prancing into my life one day to stomp all over my pawpsicle empire and lead me through a forty-eight hour spree of existential crises…"

"That sounds terrible," she said, their muzzles almost touching, "who was it?"

"Dawn Bellwether," he said flatly, playfully tapping her adorable little nose.

Her mouth opened in a surprised expression, then she scowled and punched his shoulder. "Nick!"

He laughed outright; she was so cute when she was angry. "I'm sorry, I had to!" He rubbed his upper arm where she'd punched him. Thankfully she'd been thoughtful enough to use her left…

"You're an ass," she said, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms.

"That's offensive to donkeys," he remarked. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her onto him. He ran his claws down and around her back. "Hey now, what did you expect from me, eh?"

"A more creative answer," she said into his neck. He chuckled in response.

"I can't always meet your high expectations now," he said. He ran his paw up the back of her head, taking one of her ears and following it to its tip. As he did so, he felt her entire body tighten and shudder.

"Ugh, Nick!" she gasped, "My ears are _super_ sensitive!"

"Oh, sorry about that!" he said, paw withdrawing.

She sat up. "It's not a bad thing, just…um…" She looked sheepishly at him, then the floor.

"But?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

"It's…kind of a sexual thing with bunnies."

"Oh…OH!" His eyes grew wide. "I am SO sorry!"

Her face broke into a smile. "It's totally alright, Nick. It was an accident." She leaned forward, paws on his chest, staring into his eyes. "And frankly, I enjoy it."

"Well, that's good I suppose…I'd hate to unintentionally make you – _mph_!" His words were cut off as her lips met his. He was stunned for a few seconds, then melted into it, wrapping his arms around her again and pulling her close.

Her paws travelled up the sides of his head to cup him where his jaw met his neck. He felt her gently nibble on his bottom lip before pressing her tongue forward in an inquisitive venture.

 _Damn_ , he thought, _I need to remember the ear trick!_

He responded by sweeping his own tongue across her lips and grasping the back of her head, his other paw tracing a claw down her spine. Her back arched as he reached her tail, trailing off the end of it like it was a ramp. He could no longer ignore the fact that his pants had grown slightly tighter.

Judy must have realized this because she broke off from his lips and began tracing hers down his neck. She loosened his tie and buttons one at a time, kissing his chest as she did so.

Nick closed his eyes and hummed. The light touch of her lips sent crackles across his skin. It was quite pleasant, in a teasing way. "You're in trouble now that I've found your 'on' switch," he said, stroking her other ear in a similar fashion to his accidental discovery. She sucked in a breath and her paws gripped his mostly opened shirt, eyes closing, body tremoring again. She bit her lower lip and gave him a mischievous, narrow-eyed glare.

It was Nick's turn to gasp in surprised pleasure as she scratched his belly around his navel and across the top of his now-exposed pants. His whole body lurched, wanting to both curl into a ball to escape the overwhelming sensation and stretch backward to expose more of his body to be treated. He could only giggle in stunned bliss.

"So all canines _do_ like belly scratches," She smirked.

"Yeah," he panted, "I'd say it's one of our bigger weaknesses."

"I can think of a couple more," she said, flashing him another naughty look. Her hands worked to undo his belt while her lips traced themselves around his lower belly.

Nick's eyes fluttered and rolled with pleasure, waves of warmth beginning to cascade through him.

His button came undone. She drew his zipper down painfully slowly. She curled a finger around the waistband of his underwear and began to follow it with kisses as she descended toward —

 _Rrrrriiiing-rrrriiiing!_

His house phone's coarse, buzzing bell startled him out of his blissful existence. "Really?!" he complained, "Of all the times…" He turned to face the closest device, which sat on a small table beside the arm of the couch on which he planned to rest his head for a while. He glanced at the unfamiliar number, then at the time. 11:36 PM. Who the hell would be calling him now?

"Who is it?" Judy asked.

"I don't know," he said with a shrug.

"Well answer it then!"

Nick huffed in frustration, then lifted the device off of its port and brought it to his ear. "Hello?"

" _Officer Wilde, listen closely; I will only say this once_ ," the voice on the other end said.

"Wha-who is this?" He sat up, suddenly hyper-aware. It could be Mr. White or one of his men. Nick put the call on speaker phone so that Judy would be in the loop.

" _I suggest you write the following down. It is not meant to be memorized."_ The voice was dark, gravelly, tinged with an accent that branded him as a mammal from the island nation of Greater Britannia.

"Uh, hang on!" Nick scrambled for his kitchen, one hand holding up his still-undone pants, toward a basket he kept random papers and writing utensils in. "Alright, shoot," he said, pen tested and poised above a notepad.

" _As the sky above reflects so below onto a body of water, so may the guiding points fall. The product of two and twenty degrees south of the fountain where your wrist lay sprained, miles east by the count of Scout tenants lies the following in blended characteristic form: 18, 5, 6, 15, 18, 5, 19, 20, space, 12, 15, 19, 20, space, 20, 15, 23, 14. This stands below where you first shied away from Judy's caring touch. Go to it, pick up an order under your surname._

Nick's pen flew across the page, frantically capturing the numbers and noting details in the ragged voice's strange narration. None of it made sense. He and Judy, who now stood in the kitchen entryway, shared a perplexed glance. "How do you know all this? Who are you?" Nick tried.

" _The situation dictates that you not know my identity…for the moment. Rest assured that I know you, Nicolas Piberius Wilde, better than you may know yourself. Complete your task between the hours of eight AM and five PM tomorrow. Pray that it is not too late._ "

"Too late for what? Hello? Sir?" Whomever was on the other end had hung up. He sighed, "What a way to ruin the moment, huh?"

"I'd say so. What was that all about?" Judy's face had descended into an inquisitive frown.

"No idea…" Nick said absent-mindedly. "South of the fountain where my wrist lay sprained…" He mumbled under his breath. The phrase set off an old memory. Nick had famously, and miraculously, never broken a bone in his life. His only injury that came close was when he'd sprained his wrist when he was nine after slipping on the fountain that marked the exact center of Zootopia.

Judy sidled up next to him, taking a look at his notes. "Jeeze, chicken-scratch much?" she remarked.

"Judy," he breathed, "how good are you with puzzles?"

She shrugged. "Pretty average I'd say," she raised an eyebrow at him, "Why?"

"I don't know; I'm still sort of in shock about the whole thing. But something tells me we need to follow through with this…though I'm confused about all of it too."

"I dunno, you seem pretty excited about it to me," she said, smirking.

Nick looked at her and was about to ask what she meant when he realized his member was still hard as a rock, pushing against his underwear in a desperate bid for freedom. He was surprised he hadn't noticed it pressed to the cabinet below the countertop he was leaning on. "Oh…wow. Yeah. I guess you could say that. Not sure if it's the result of the phone call however," he said, taking his eyes from himself and leveling them at her.

"I take that as a compliment," she said. Nick re-did the top of his trousers, then turned away to give himself some room by pulling the "waistband" trick.

He buttoned his shirt as he spoke. "I'd certainly hope so, it's difficult _not_ to do that around you. I'd hate for you to consider it insulting." He leered at her over his shoulder.

"Far from it," she said, smile genuine but tinged with suggestiveness.

He winked at her. Then his eyes slid to the notepad on the countertop. He sighed as his uneasiness returned, hair on the back of his neck tingling. "I won't be able to relax until I've figured this out."

"Me neither," Judy said.

Nick led her back to the couch, notepad in hand. "By the way, would you like anything? Some fruit? A drink?"

"I could go for some water I guess," she said, sitting.

"Comin' right up," he said, leaving the pad with her. He rushed back into the kitchen and grabbed two glasses and filled them with water. He set them on the coffee table, then returned to the kitchen, fetching a bottle of single-malt out of his liquor cabinet. He poured himself two fingers of the copper-colored fluid, added a splash of cold water, and dropped a single ice cube into the small glass.

"Getting fancy are we?" Judy said with an eyebrow raised.

"It helps me relax," Nick said, settling onto the couch, "I've also noticed I can think more creatively sometimes with some alcoholic lubrication."

"Taking the Hemmingway route huh?"

"Not quite that bad, but yes." He sipped, breathing through his nose as it tingled and burned his mouth and pallet. He sat forward to peer at his notes.

"As the sky above so below reflects onto a body of water, so may the guiding points fall," Judy read. She leaned forward and circled the word 'reflection.'

"Got something, Fluff?" Nick asked.

"It feels like this word is the most important. These 'guiding points' he mentions must have something to do with the weird directions in the next sentence."

"So, what, is it something about reflecting the directions he gave?" He turned towards her then, eyes wide.

"Exactly," she said, pointing her pen at him. "Like a mirror. What if the location he gave us directions to is actually the opposite?"

"That…sounds reasonable." Nick stood, rushing upstairs. He soon returned with a rolled up piece of poster paper, which, when flattened across the table, was a map of Zootopia. "I think the starting point is the exact center of the city, somewhere here," he stabbed at the map with a finger, "around the Founders' Memorial and fountain."

"How do you know that?"

"The second sentence talks about 'the fountain where my wrist lay sprained.' I sprained my wrist when I was a kid after slipping on that same fountain."

"Oh…wow. How does this guy know about that?"

Nick shuddered. "I'd rather not think too hard about that part."

"I know what you mean." She grimaced at him. "So, 'two and twenty degrees south' of that fountain eh?"

"Well if I remember anything from grade school, 'product' is the result of a multiplication equation. So 'two and twenty' is?"

"Forty," Judy answered instantly. "So forty degrees south of the fountain?"

"So far," Nick said, taking a pencil and lightly drawing a vertical line below the center of the city. "Then 'miles east by the count of Scout tenants?'"

"Does he mean the Junior Ranger Scouts?"

"He could…" Nick searched his memories. It was reminiscent of looking through a dusty filing cabinet. "Tenants…tenants…" he mumbled.

"Like tenants to an oath?" Judy supplied.

"Oh!" Nick sat up straight, counting with his right paw. "I, Nicolas Wilde, promise to be brave, loyal, helpful, and trustworthy!"

"Four miles east then," Judy said with a giggle. She counted the city blocks with the back of her pen, mumbling the names under her breath and estimating thee distances. "About here," she said, drawing the utensil in a circle.

Nick marked the area on the map with his pencil. "Sahara Square. So the directions are supposed to be mirrored?"

"As far as I can guess…"

Nick traced another line forty degrees north of the fountain, then west by four miles. "Rainforest District. But how do we know this is what he wanted?"

They poured over the notes again in silence. "'From where you shied away from Judy's caring touch,'" Judy said, staring at the far wall. Her eyes met Nick's. "The skyrails! Right after you finished telling me about your Junior Ranger Scouts experience, I touched your arm and you shied away from me."

"Heh, how different things were then." Nick chuckled. "Alright, so that was over the Rainforest District, so that seems pretty affirmative."

"So now these numbers." They stared down at the series of seemingly randomly assorted numerical characters.

"Yeah," Nick said. "No idea where to start with these."

"Well, let's go back to your school days again," she said, "look for context clues."

"'Blended characteristic form' sounds promising."

"Well, another word for 'characters' in a literary sense is 'letters.' But what letters?"

Nick took another sip of whisky and regarded the notes. "There's twenty-six letters in the English alphabet, and none of these go above that."

"That's a good idea!" Judy said. She took the notepad and wrote down the letters of the alphabet in order, then began at the top again and numbered them from one to twenty-six. After multiple rounds of going back and forth between the message and her chart, she sat back, confused. "Reforest Lost Town? What the hell?"

"That _really_ doesn't make sense," Nick said.

"Ever heard of a place called Lost Town in the canopy by chance?" Judy asked, squinting.

"Nope," Nick said with a shrug, "But if the previous clues are anything to go by, none of it is as it seems. I don't think this is actually what the letters mean."

"What are you getting at?"

"There might be patterns hidden in the letters, they could be meant to be rearranged, things like that."

"Hmm." Judy stared hard at the notes.

Minutes ticked by, both of their writing utensils making marks, then erasing or crossing them out. They even wrote the words in a vertical arrangement, and looked at the notepad upside down. Writing backwards didn't help either.

Then Judy wrote the letters in a random, cloud-like arrangement, and something clicked. She drew a line through four letters in close proximity, spelling out "otter."

"Nick, what if it's an anagram?"

"A what-now?"

"Anagram, you know, when you scramble a word to make another?" She shrugged. "My siblings and I used to code notes we passed back and forth between bunkhouses. But we used a code with those."

"Your upbringing was so different than mine it's hard to even visualize," Nick said flatly. "But this anagram idea sounds promising. So, how do we go about this?"

"I want to see if 'otter' is important, so let's see what we can make with the rest of these."

After a long list of strange phrases, including 'flower snots', 'stoners flow', 'felons warts', and 'tenors wolfs', Nick suddenly straightened.

"'Tons flowers!'"

Judy looked at him inquisitively. "What?"

Nick looked at her, glee on his face. "Otter-tons Flowers! It's Emmitt Otterton's flower shop in the Rainforest District!"

"Nick you're a genius!" Judy exclaimed as the pair high-fived.

"Do I know that, yes, yes I do."

"Haw haw," she chided, "Ever been to his shop?"

"A few times. I used to work for Mr. Big and all."

"Oh…anything illegal we should be on the lookout for?"

"It's actually just a normal flower shop," Nick said, spreading his paws earnestly, "He just happens to sell lots of flowers to a mob boss."

"Huh." Judy peered at the notes again. "Didn't the voice say to be there between eight and five?"

"Yup, sounds like business hours to me," Nick said, checking a clock on the wall. He hissed through his teeth as he realized how late it was. 11:59. "I hope you were planning on staying over," he said, apologetically, "I kinda lost track of time."

"Dude, I was sleeping before you got here; I'm all settled in." Judy said, tipping her head forward. One ear bent forward in the middle. It was delightful to Nick.

"In that case, would you like the couch or the bed?"

"Why don't we both just use your bed? It's _huge_ compared to mine," she said palms up in suggestion.

"Hmm." Nick's smile grew at the thought. "I wouldn't mind cuddling to sleep. That's not something I'm used to."

"Neither am I," she said.

She looked so innocent in that moment, so bashful. Nick had to resist the urge to pinch her cheeks.

His thoughts were brought to a screeching halt as the sound of shattering glass reached his ears.

* * *

 **Announcement!** **Announcement!**

I happened upon a moment of great inspiration just after posting the original version of this chapter. I do apologize for making anyone who has read this far RE-read this whole thing, but I made the chapter bigger and juicier as compensation. The story now has better focus and direction, so please excuse my disruption. Carry on.

Also, I do not own The Last Samurai.


	10. Chapter 10

**Announcement!** : I apologize in advance to my dear readers who don't know about what I did with the last chapter (chapter 9). I went back after a moment of great inspiration - after hours of deliberating and fleshing things out with my genius-level brother - and did some major editing. The previous chapter has nearly doubled in size, and, after about the halfway mark is completely different from how it was originally.

If you wish not to read the ENTIRE thing again (which is totally fine as I'd hate to ask you to do anything you'd rather not), simply start just after Asha gets chewed out by Mr. White, about half-way through the chapter.

Until then, cheers, sorry for all the faffing about, and thanks for reading and reviewing. :]

* * *

Chapter 10: Blunt Edge

Both pairs of ears immediately whipped towards the kitchen. Nick and Judy both stooped low, peering over the back of the couch at the crowbar that was hacking away at stray pieces of glass left in the splintering window frame above the sink, freshly washed dishes clattering and crashing into the basin and onto the floor.

"Get down!" Nick hissed, and Judy dropped to the floor. He followed, then worked his way around the left arm of the couch, bent low, wracking his mind for any kind of weapon that may be nearby. His only other firearm was locked away in a safe upstairs, and he had left his handgun to the forensics team so they could match the bullet casing from the docks earlier that day!

As if from a nightmare, the very same fossa deftly leapt through the destroyed aperture, vaulting over the sink entirely. She wore black combat boots and camouflage pants, her face obscured by a black hood. Nick instantly recognized the handgun she gripped as a .45 caliber. She meant business.

"Foxy foxy!" She said in her strange, maniacal warble. "Come on out, I know you're in here! Don't worry, I'm not here to kill you, just a simple – yes – a simple relocation! Hahaa!"

Nick and Judy traded a glance. What was there to do? The fossa would find them soon enough; she could probably smell them already.

"And what if I don't want to play along?" Nick said, not moving.

"Then Mr. White will be d-displeased. Do you want to make him angry? I know I don't. You shouldn't. It ends _very_ badly."

"Okay listen, we can talk if you put your gun away," Nick tried.

"Heehee! Sly fox – I'm not falling for that! We can negotiate on _my_ terms. I'm not here to kill, only take. Only take. Like Mr. White ordered. Yes." She was moving now, her boots crunching on scattered pieces of glass as she stalked.

"What does Mr. White want with me?" Nick yelled. He eyed Judy, then glanced at the glasses of water on the table, one nearly empty. He pointed to her, then indicated the fossa, making a throwing motion with his arm.

"I-I don't know. I think you two have some – heh – _family ties_ dear foxy-woxy. He's been watching. So has Mr. White."

A confused frown crossed Nick's face at the fossa's words, but he shook his head; she was clearly out of her mind. He met eyes with Judy again and pointed to himself, making a walking motion then putting one fist into his other palm. It was a stupid plan, he knew, but it was all they had.

"Yeah, it's really creepy how he does that," Nick said, grabbing the other water glass, the first already in Judy's paw.

"I won't leave here without you!" The fossa snapped, "Show yourself, or I start shooting! Mr. White never said I couldn't make you hurt!"

Nick took this as his cue. He chucked the glass over Judy's head, towards his staircase. It clattered against the hardwood, making lots of noise but not shattering. In the instant the fossa's attention was momentarily drawn to her left, Judy and Nick moved simultaneously. Judy hurled her glass directly at the invader while Nick skirted around his couch, entering a full sprint in the short distance, eyes locked on the fossa's gun, hands aimed for her wrists.

The fossa swore in a language Nick didn't recognize. The glass had impacted her shoulder, spraying the remaining water into her face. A moment later, Nick collided with the invader, who was nearly as tall as he was. His paws successfully wrapped around the fossa's wrists, and he pushed the gun towards the ceiling while rushing her back against the kitchen sink. There was a deafening pop as the gun went off, the bullet slamming into the ceiling uselessly.

"Drop your weapon!" Nick bellowed as he slammed her paws repeatedly against the counter. Two good impacts and the gun came free. Nick realized the fossa had actually let go on the way to the floor; she had freed up her hands on purpose. The fossa landed on him, driving the air out of his lungs. He felt two thudding hits against his face before he could get a foot under her. He kicked off, but she instantly sprang back onto him. They tumbled over one another, Nick landing a lucky hit here and there with a fist or elbow, but the wild creature was tenacious. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the fossa snatch up a large piece of broken glass.

"Gah!" Nick shouted, managing to block the fossa's wrist. He redirected the downward force past his head, causing the fossa to essentially punch the leg of the table in his kitchen. Hearing the glass drop to the tile gave Nick a small moment of victory, but it was immediately shattered by the fossa's fist's smashing into his mouth and nose repeatedly. He tasted blood as his attacker bounced his head off the floor two, three, four times. Each impact sent stars through Nick's vision, his breath leaving him.

In a flash, the fossa was off of him and collided against the nearby cabinet door to his left. Nick groaned and rolled to see Judy's mechanical leg settle back onto the ground just before she leapt into action. A chorus of shouting and impacts complimented the blizzard of blueish-grey and golden-brown as the two tussled.

In a flurry of blows, the fossa sent Judy skidding across the tile floor and into the fridge. The invader stumbled towards Judy to finish the job, but Nick seized her extremely long tail, using the momentum to help him stand. The fossa whirled around, swinging her paw in a wild haymaker as Nick dodged, driving his shoulder into her lower abdomen before lifting her with his legs and bringing her down as hard as he could onto the tile floor.

The fossa let out a gurgling groan, dazed. Nick turned her over, planting a knee into the middle of her spine and pulling one arm back, his other hand holding the fossa's head against the tile. "Go…get…some zip-ties," he panted, "Upstairs…storage closet…tools…"

"Right, on it!" Judy said, rising unsteadily and disappearing around the corner.

Most of what Nick could hear in the sudden quiet was his own breathing and pounding heart. He also felt sick; he posited that he had a concussion. Judy had better be quick with those zip-ties; he didn't know how long he could last before the fossa was on him again.

The form below him chuckled, spitting blood onto the floor. "Hey foxy, ever tussled with a fossa before?"

"I'm not gonna…answer that," He said, swaying. He was definitely hurt, bad.

The chuckle turned into a giggle. "That's why you don't know about our fucking tails!"

Something seized Nick around the neck and yanked him backwards. "Guh! Shit!" he swore as the fossa slithered out from under him. He tumbled backwards, frantically grasping for a handhold. His paw closed around the handle of his cast-iron skillet, which was protruding from the splintered remnants of the cabinet door. He heard the sound of a blade being drawn.

"You've done it now foxy!" The fossa shouted, lunging for him, knife blade flashing.

Nick desperately swung with the pan, catching the fossa's arm in its arc and knocking her off course. He used her moment of recovery to rise to his own feet.

She swung again, but he dodged back one step. This left him unprepared for her follow-up jab. Searing pain blossomed in his shoulder, and he swung aimlessly with the heavy skillet, too slow to hit anything. Crying out in a fit of fear and agony he lashed out again, catching her in the upper arm with the edge. Something buckled, and the invader screeched in pain while backing away and holding her dangling arm. She hissed at him and transferred the knife into her other paw. She instantly sprang forward, the blade drawing itself diagonally across Nick's chest. He whirled the skillet again in desperation, but it was too heavy to control properly.

By the time he realized his mistake, it was too late. He swung from the tile up towards the fossa, attempting to catch her under the chin or bat the knife away, but he missed, leaving his body exposed. She lunged forward once again, this time plunging the knife into his abdomen. Just as the scream escaped his mouth, Nick saw his chance. She was off balance, body tending too far forward, too focused on the target to pay attention to her surroundings.

He brought the skilled down on her head. She twisted and fell onto her back, hissing and raising her paw, but to no avail. Nick swung again and again, impacting the fossa's face and head, snuffing out the snarls that morphed into screams that transitioned into whimpers.

She had hurt Judy.

She had killed fifteen of his fellow officers.

She had tried to kill him.

Again, and again.

The pan came down.

Again, and again.

The dark puddle grew, the splashes coating the cabinets and himself and the tile and clinging to the pan.

Again and again.

Again and again.

He wailed, sobbing, his own pain driving him on, his need to protect Judy fueling him.

Again.

" _Nick!_ "

Again.

Again.

" _Nick! Stop it! Please!_ "

And again.

" _NICK!_ "

Something grey flew out of the left side of his vision, tackling him and causing the pan to drop to the floor, its clattering echoing in his rapidly deafening ears. There she was. Judy. Shaking the sides of his head and staring into his eyes with those great big purple planets. Oh dear.

OOO

Judy heard a stream of curses filter up from downstairs, followed by a chorus of scuffling and metallic banging. She sprinted down the stairs, zip-ties in her paw, heart pounding in her ears. She rounded the corner just as the fossa's knife planted itself into Nick's lower abdomen with a _thunk_ , his cry of pain feral. A gasp escaped the rabbit's mouth.

Then the cast-iron skillet came down. The fossa's skull emitted a sickening crack, echoed by the pan's bell-like resonance after. She swiped at Nick, claws out, fangs bared, eyes wide for the first time with fear.

The pan dropped again. And again. Judy turned away.

The crackling and suction sounds were nauseating.

And they continued.

"Nick!" She shouted. He didn't seem to hear her over his own wailing.

He kept swinging. The fossa's legs twitched in the throes of death, rigor mortis already settling into her paws, the fingers curled in last agony.

"Nick! Stop it!" She felt horror; he was gone. The Nick she knew wasn't guiding his body's hands. "Please!"

The torturous pounding continued. The fox's teeth were stained with blood, revealed by his cut, snarling lips. His eyes were wide and filled with primitive fury. The fur on the back of his neck stood elevated.

"NICK!" she shrieked, a desperate sob wracking her frame. The zip-ties dropped to the floor. In a last ditch effort, she charged towards him, driving her shoulder into his side just as the pan raised into the air. It fell to the floor, tumbling and ringing as she drove him into the cabinet to his right. He let out a chorus of half-formed shrieks and snarls, paws lashing out in every direction, blinded by his current state. She straddled him, taking hold of his face, staring straight into his eyes. "Nick it's me! Everything's alright! You're okay." He eventually stopped thrashing, his green eyes staring back into hers.

"J…Judy?" He whispered, sounding more scared than anything.

"Yes," she said, "I'm here. I'm here." She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling up into a hug. "Everything's going to be alright," she breathed.

He sobbed into her shoulder, then coughed and spat. He was in a bad way.

"What the fuck was that?!" A deep, gravelly voice said from outside. Judy's ears immediately perked up, and she glanced toward the broken window above them. A polar bear stuck his head through the shattered window pain. "Asha? Ash – holy shit!" His eyes beheld the shattered corpse of the fossa, then flicked to Judy and Nick, who continued to sob and emit guttural whimpers. "Rocky! Get the net! Go in through the front door!" He yelled, heading back outside. Judy heard the signature huff of a rhinoceros.

"Oh shit, Nick!" She swore, shaking him. "Can you walk?"

"Mmmba…back door," he gurgled. Blood streamed out of his nose, and he kept spitting the crimson substance. His shirt was being turned red as well.

"Back door, good idea," Judy said. She started to lift Nick and help him get on his feet, but he gasped and yelped in pain. That's when she noticed the knife handle protruding from him. "Oh god, Nick!"

"Go…just go," he said, his eyes clamped shut against pain. He leaned against the fridge, resting a hand on the hilt of the knife.

"No, Nick, I'm not leaving you here." Judy grabbed his paw and pulled.

Nick's lips drew into a smile, revealing his blood-stained teeth once again. "Te…tenacious as always I see." She felt him pull against her, bracing one hand against the fridge to push himself to his feet. He wobbled, stumbled forward two steps, and fell heavily to one knee.

"That's it!" Judy said, placing herself under one of his arms, "We've got this, we can make it."

A great _boom_ shook the whole house. Judy glanced to her right to see some of the wall around the front entryway cracking, pieces of drywall tumbling to the floor. The rhino.

"Which way to the back?" She shouted, helping Nick move forward.

"That…that way," he breathed, sounding exhausted. They rounded the corner, passing the stairs. Nick's other paw passed between the knife still in him and the walls to keep himself upright.

Another impact rattled the walls, and Judy could hear larger chunks of the structure collapsing.

Finally they reached the back door. Judy unlocked it and tore it open. There was a short flight of stairs. Before she could take a step, Nick tumbled, taking her with him. He landed on his side at the bottom, his eyes wide and unfocused.

"Nick, stay awake!" She said, shaking him.

"Gate." He managed to wheeze. He rose to all fours and stumbled towards a corner along the wooden fence of his small backyard.

Judy spied the piece he was talking about and rushed for it. The lock was almost out of reach, but she tripped it with a small hop, kicking the wood-paneled door open. It revealed an alleyway of sorts made up of wooden fence, the houses on either side divided by the lane of grass in the middle. She turned back just as Nick finished vomiting a mix of blood and bile into the grass.

"Oh no, Nick!" She sprinted back over to him, grasping his shoulder just as a tremendous crashing sound filtered out of the bungalow they just left. "We have to hurry!"

The fox nodded, rising to his feet with great effort and stumbling forward, using the fence as a guide down the alley until they emerged onto the street. Almost all houses were dark at this hour, only two within the immediate vicinity even had lights on. But across the road and down the way to the right, on a crowded lawn festooned with handmade signs for various organizations, was a fraternity party.

"Where the fuck are they?!" came the polar bear's voice from behind them. The sounds of crashing furniture reached their ears as the two tore apart the interior of the house.

"This way!" Judy said, guiding Nick toward the house. They were almost there. Nick would be okay. Everything was going to be okay.

A few younger mammals noticed them before they arrived, pointing and waving other college kids over. A tiger, lion, and a panther, who all looked to be football players, rushed over and caught Nick just before he fell forward. They carried him to the lawn as Judy followed. Most of the young animals gave the small group plenty of space, most clamoring up. Judy surmised they were probably a little freaked out at this beat up pair of mammals that showed up out of nowhere in the middle of the night.

"I need a phone!" She shouted. A female ferret offered hers. "Thank you!" Judy said as she snatched it and immediately dialed the ZPD. "Hello, Clawhauser! It's Judy, we have a 10-24, repeat, 10-24, Officer Wilde is down!"

" _Noted, what is your location Officer Hopps_?" Clawhauser asked. She could tell by his tone of voice that his training had taken over, emotions pushed to the side in order to do his job smoothly and effectively.

She turned to some of the nearby college kids. "What street are we on?"

"Cyprus Drive," the panther said, jogging back with a handful of towels and two bottles of water gripped in his large paws.

Judy glanced at the number on the house. "67-894 Cyprus Drive."

" _Officers and medical aid are on the way_ ," Clawhauser said, " _Anything else we should be aware of_?"

"Yes, Nick's house was broken into and the suspect attempted to take him. We neutralized the suspect but Nick was wounded in the process. Two more suspects, polar bear and rhino, were with the first. They may still be at Nick's residence. Use caution, they're should be considered armed and dangerous. We are on a lawn in front of a frat party," She relayed in quick succession.

" _Acknowledged. Are you hurt Officer Hopps_?"

Judy noticed she was breathing way too fast. She glanced down at her left paw and saw that it was shaking. Her whole body was shaking. "Negative, just overwhelmed."

" _Alright, try and remain calm, I've scrambled all remaining units, they should be there in less than four minutes_."

Now that her adrenaline was wearing off, she felt sick. She plopped down on the grass on her side. Tears manifested and fell without her input.

Nick lay across from her. His head and shoulders were propped up by a small pile of towels. His face had begun to swell, and his shirt was almost completely soaked with blood that seeped from wounds or dropped from his face and scalp. His ears lay back against his head, and he breathed shallowly, one paw wrapped around the hilt of the knife, keeping it steady. He glanced at her with heavy eyelids and gave her a wan smile.

"It's Officers Hopps and Wilde!" One of the college kids said. The music had died down in the house, and more animals had piled onto the lawn, all vying for a view of the scene.

"Holy shit, it is!" Said another.

"What the fuck happened?!"

"I don't know, they just showed up like this!"

"Has someone called an ambulance yet?!"

Judy wanted to shut them up, to wake up from this nightmare. She wanted to have fallen asleep in Nick's arms, and have him comfort her in the dark, even laugh at her emotions. Because then everything would be okay.

But it wasn't. This was confirmed by Nick's bath of crimson, by the blood trail that lead all the way back to the alley, by his increasingly weakening state. She shut her eyes against too much hope.

Then she opened them again. Who had been there for her when she was at the end? Who stayed with her through her recovery, even during her coma? Who changed her dressings and brought her food and changed the bed pans and held her hand and kept her company and –

She crawled to him, sitting and placing his head in her lap, stroking his ears.

"Mmm…hey Carrots," he croaked, smiling up at her, eyes barely open.

"Just hang on Nick, they'll be here soon."

His eyes slid closed and open as slow as a sloth, but he nodded, albeit meekly. "Of all the places to end up, huh?" He said, indicating the crowd.

"Heh, yea," she chuckled sadly, running her hands through the fur on his head and around his ears still.

Sirens brought with them the inward breaths of hope. Only two vehicles showed up: one ambulance, into which Nick was promptly loaded, and one squad car, out of which stepped a distraught Delgado, who offered to take Judy while following the ambulance to the hospital.

"My god, I just saw him a few hours ago," the lion said as they set off. Judy waved out the window at the gathered crowd of college kids. "Dropped him off at home, cruised around some neighborhoods for a few hours, then the call came in. I can't believe it."

"Neither can I," Judy said, bringing her knees to her chest. The seat was plenty large, and Judy remembered that Fangmeyer usually occupied it, him being Delgado's usual partner.

The rest of the car ride was silent, the only sounds being the competing sirens of the two vehicles as the two ran code, screaming through what little traffic remained at this hour towards the hospital.

OOO

Mr. White never seemed to sleep. Daniel Fey stood, stiff and stoic as ever in his employer's presence, hands behind his back, eyes straight ahead. He had relayed the night's tally: forty seven out of fifty targets had successfully been acquired. One hadn't been home, one had been killed in a scuffle, and one, the fox officer, had escaped.

"This fox is a crafty one," Mr. White rumbled, dragging his claws across his desk towards himself, a habit he had developed that was made apparent by the unsightly damage that had built up on the piece of furniture.

"I'm not sure if 'crafty' is the right word, sir," Danny said, still staring straight ahead, "I witnessed the entire ordeal. Asha was killed, and her two associates lost the fox. The rabbit was with him, sir."

"Was she now?" He mused. Danny guessed Mr. White hadn't been paying as much attention to the two mammals as the plans had been underway. That's why he had assigned Danny to keep an eye on them, after all. It was a hefty bonus in his payroll. "No matter, his addition to the list would have just been icing on the cake. It was not imperative."

"So Asha's death was – "

"A necessary sacrifice. She was proving to be too much trouble for her worth." Danny felt Mr. White's horrific eyes come to rest on him. He swallowed. "Pray that you don't fall into the same bad habits."

"I wouldn't dream of it, sir."

Mr. White snorted in acknowledgment. "Did you happen to catch which hospital the fox was sent to?"

"Unfortunately not, sir." Danny's heart sank.

"Hmm. I'll find him. You can rest easy; you have a big day tomorrow after all. And keep an eye on that rabbit; I feel she may be the one to throw a wrench into the proceedings."

"Will do, sir," Fey said before saluting crisply and turning on his heels.

* * *

 **Announcement!** : I apologize in advance to my dear readers who don't know about what I did with the last chapter (chapter 9). I went back after a moment of great inspiration - after hours of deliberating and fleshing things out with my genius-level brother - and did some major editing. The previous chapter has nearly doubled in size, and, after about the halfway mark is completely different from how it was originally.

If you wish not to read the ENTIRE thing again (which is totally fine as I'd hate to ask you to do anything you'd rather not), simply start just after Asha gets chewed out by Mr. White, about half-way through the chapter.

Until then, cheers, sorry for all the faffing about, and thanks for reading and reviewing. :]


	11. Chapter 11

Greetings readers! I apologize for the delay; I was in Alaska for the better part of a week and a half with no internet and hardly any time to write. Before that there was a major competition in the San Francisco area that was three days long that I had to do things for, etc., etc., excuses, you know the drill. Anywho, I haven't died, just been dumped on. The story must go on!

Thanks for those of you sticking around and dealing with my awkward writing! And thanks to those of you who comment and review my awkward writing so I can maybe make it less awkward! :D

Also, a special thanks is in order for user Armae for letting me use the name Vivienne. It's a sexy name for a sexy character. Mwahaha.

Cheers!

* * *

Chapter 11: The Hill Has Eyes

Judy stared at the wall opposite her. It was beige, boring, formless, and faded to the background as her thoughts raged behind her eyes. She had withdrawn into herself during the car ride here to the hospital, an old, defensive habit she instinctively took on in moments of great stress or fear. This allowed her to maintain a sort of outward composure even though she was adrift. She had come to realize over the course of the night that all hope of sanctuary had been suddenly swept away. How the delusion of safety when dealing with a foe who could tap into any camera or phone he wished had manifested, she didn't know. The station was no longer safe, none of them were. Nick's own house was targeted, and her own apartment would almost certainly be under surveillance.

The thought had slowly dawned that it was up to _her_ now to solve the puzzle they had been given just before the break-in. Her training told her to step back and review the situation more carefully; after all, it could be some kind of ruse put on by Mr. White to track their movements, or to make them pawns in some kind of bigger plan he had. But something about the call made this seem less likely for her. It probably had to do with the intimate knowledge of Nick's past, and of the two of them working together. There was no malice in the message.

She sighed in the empty space, huddling her knees to her chest. She'd have to follow her gut on this one.

A sound to her right drew her attention, ears tilting automatically. It was the patter of padded paws, accented by the _tick_ of claws echoing in a hallway. It was extremely faint, and no vibration followed it, indicating a lighter mammal. The spacing between the steps was that of an animal around Nick's size, though it could be anything from a lynx to a wolf. She kept her eyes locked on the door on the right side of the room, awaiting the answer to her conjectures.

The footsteps halted. Silence.

Judy shifted, readying herself to instantly spring into action. There was the sound of a heavy breath through a nose, then the door handle turned ninety degrees.

Into the room strode a slender vixen clad in black turtleneck sweater and trousers, a brilliant blue scarf accenting her equally sky-colored eyes that seemed almost fake. The slightest bit of greying on her muzzle and ear tips indicated her advanced years which in no way was reflected anywhere else on her person. Her expression was soft, eyes tired as she scanned the room, one black-gloved hand on the door handle, the other on a small, quaint handbag by her side.

When the vixen's gaze fell on Judy, a warm smile graced her muzzle, which pulled ever so slightly toward the ceiling in greeting. "Ah," she began in a voice smoother than flowing water in a Japanese garden, "Miss Hopps, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Judy blinked. "I, uh, it's nice to meet you Miss…?"

"Wilde, Vivienne Wilde," the vixen replied, losing the door behind her. Her British accent was musical, refined.

Judy's eyes grew wide. "Are you - ?"

"Nicolas's mother? Yes, I am."

"O-oh, well, I guess you already know about Nick and…and I…then…"

Vivienne traced a graceful path to sit in the chair opposite Judy, against the wall the bunny was staring at earlier. "I do indeed, and before you go worrying about any prejudices you may think I'm harboring, I'll have you know that I have no qualms with Nick engaging in a relationship with someone outside of his species. I only care that he is happy."

Judy closed her mouth after realizing she wouldn't need to say anything in their defense, especially for the picture due to appear on the cover of TIME. "That makes me feel…very relieved. Thank you, Mrs. Wilde."

The vixen waved her paw in front of her as if a fly were being a bother. "Oh please, call me Vivienne. And by all means, may I call you Judy?"

"Of course, Vivienne." Judy smiled, then she sighed and looked at the floor. "I assume you're here because of what happened to Nick?"

"That was part of my visit, yes. In fact, I've already…been to see him." Judy looked up at the vixen, who shrugged. "He's still sedated at the moment so he's not one for conversation. I left him a note." Vivienne smiled, a subtle gleam in her eyes. "No, I came to find you."

"Oh…okay…" Judy said, still not understanding.

Vivienne chuckled at the rabbit's apparent discomfort. "Don't worry yourself dear, I'm here to help you. Just a few hours ago you received a mysterious phone call loaded with a plethora of cryptic sentences, yes?"

Judy nodded, blinking to hide her surprise.

" _Hmph_ , that's just like John. Likes to be dark and ominous, that one." The vixen shook her head with a smirk, as if recalling an old memory. "I received a message myself, though the directions were much plainer: help them. Apparently I'm the key to the second half of whatever grand _scheme_ he's got going for you."

"So is this guy a friend of yours?" Judy asked.

Vivienne nodded. "We've known one another for donkey's years. Met before Nick was even born."

"So you trust him?"

"With my life. And if I were you, I'd do the same."

Vivienne's words and suddenly serious demeanor send a shiver down Judy's spine. "I suppose I don't really have a choice."

"You always have a choice, darling, that's what's important to remember." The vixen pulled up a sleeve to peer at her wristwatch. "For example, you can either come with me right now and complete our little venture by the time Nick is able to join the fun once again, or we can sit here winging and dithering until he wakes up and waste a day of progress." She glanced up at Judy, who shrugged.

"I'm not really doing anything else I guess –"

"Excellent, come with me," Vivienne said, springing up from her chair and gliding to the door.

Judy blinked and followed.

The vixen led her deftly through the hospital, this one known affectionately as "The Meatlocker" for its location in Tundra Town. It was the closest medical center to Nick's neighborhood, which resided just inside the wall between Sahara square and the frozen section, and it was proving to be very nearly as complicated as the one at which Judy was treated.

Having been stationary for over an hour, Judy was immediately cold when they walked through the doors. The vixen's keen ears must have picked up her shaking puffs of breath as she started shivering.

"Don't worry, love, my car may be old but it has an excellent heater."

"Oh good," Judy managed to squeak. Something odd began to register on the outer edge of her awareness then. Aside from the dull throb she'd grown used to around the point her prosthetics physically began, another sensation began to present itself. It was akin to the feeling of having an ice cube freeze to her fur, or licking a frozen pole. A burning that wasn't heat related. She then realized this was because the collars that joined her new limbs to her body were mostly made of metal, and they were becoming uncomfortably cold.

Finally, Vivienne unlocked the door of an old BMW. It looked ungainly with its high roofline and fishbowl-like windows and windshield. The engine came to life rather smoothly as Judy opened the passenger door, and the vixen had already gotten the heater going by the time she'd hopped into her seat.

"Where to then?"

"Mr. Otterton's flower shop in the Rainforest District, know it?"

"I do indeed, ma'am."

…

The drive was not long, and Mrs. Wilde seemed to know all of the shortcuts and secret turns to get to their destination quickest. Pleasant small talk filled the journey, mostly the fox asking Judy questions about growing up and pursuing a career in law enforcement. Judy couldn't help but grow very comfortable with the vixen. There was something enchanting and unexplainably charming about her. Judy smirked; this was probably where Nick got it.

"So why doesn't Nick have an accent?" Judy asked, watching the windshield wipers do battle with the rain.

"Oh, I'm afraid it was just more fodder for the bullies. Even for those who weren't exclusively pestering him. School children can be dreadful, and poor Nicolas was already singled out for being a fox. He purposely changed his accent by the time he became enamored with the Junior Ranger Scouts…" There was a sad smile on her face and a distant look in her eyes as she drove along. Then she shrugged. "No need to explain any more than that I suppose."

"That's really sad," Judy said, "I love your accent. I can only imagine how much better Nick would sound." She smirked at the thought.

Vivienne chuckled through her nose. "Ask him about it I suppose, I know it's still in there somewhere."

"I think I will…" Judy said, noticing Otterton's flower shop pass by her window. "That…that was it, back there," She stuttered, confused.

"Thank you, darling, but I'd prefer not to go through the front entrance at this hour." Her tone hadn't deviated from its cheeriness. For some reason it hadn't dawned in Judy until now that Otterton's shop would be closed and empty. It was almost 3:30 AM, after all. They were going to break in.

Oddly, the realization didn't come with its usual set of discomforts, the apprehension of reprimands for breaking the rules of society. This was a necessary blot on her nearly perfect record. In fact, the more she thought about it, she'd bent the rules before, when sneaking into the facility that housed Mr. Big's limo while searching for the same otter they would be stealing from. This was really no different. She made a mental note to leave some cash someday, seeing as her wallet was still at Nick's and therefore inaccessible.

"Good point," she remarked as the car glided down the overgrown alley behind the shop. The building itself was constructed of vertical wooden planks, painted an opaque shade of red. It looked like it belonged along the waterfront in a port town as opposed to a rainforest, and was strangely devoid of flora on the street side. Behind the shop was a different story; three greenhouses interlaced with open-air pots and boxes filled the small property to the brim, all loose stems and vines trimmed neatly to keep them out of the alleyway.

They slid to a stop, no evidence of brakes squealing. They had parked in the shadow of an adjacent building more in keeping with the aesthetic of the rest of the district, sort of built into the plants and foliage around it, twisting the roots and limbs into shape.

"Tell me dear," Vivienne suddenly began, "how many cameras did you see on our drive around the block? Specifically ones that would matter to our little adventure that we're about to partake in?"

Judy was caught off-guard. _Cameras_? It was three in the morning, how could she be expected to know to look for those without knowing what the plan was? "I-I have no idea," she finally stammered.

"Not a bother, there are three we need to look out for, and probably one inside. Two of them watch the garden out here in the back, and one covers the entire front entrance."

"Okay, so how do we get past them?"

Vivienne smirked and exited her door, locking the car after Judy followed suit. The vixen strode to an alley between the flower shop and the neighboring building, perpendicular to the driving space. "They don't cover the alleys, dear." She disappeared in the shadows, leaving Judy confused. This was furthered by the sound of tearing leaves.

Suddenly, Vivienne's silhouette appeared on the roof of the flower shop, bent low against the moonlight filtering through the canopy high above. A shocked stutter escaped Judy's lips before the vixen deftly climbed over the edge of the roofline and slapped something over the lens of the camera in the corner. She swung back onto the roof to do the same to the other side.

"It's safe now, darling, come on." The vixen monkeyed down the wall and landed silently beside the back door.

Judy climbed over the fence and made her way through the jungle of exotic plants and flowers. By the time she reached Vivienne, the fox was already opening the door, having spent the short length of Judy's trek to pick the lock. She zipped the tools back into her handbag before turning to the shocked rabbit.

"Feels a bit cheeky doing this so obviously in front of an officer of the law." She winked. "Now, follow me," she whispered, turning to stride through the doorway. Judy paused, and saw that the camera lenses had been covered by the simple concoction of a large leaf wrapped around them, secured by a rubber band. Simple, non-damaging, and ingenious.

Inside was dark. Any shutters were closed, and the only electronic lights visible were one small red light in the upper corner of the camera angled at the front counter, and the slowly oscillating blink of a computer in sleep mode. The silence was stifling, and it contributed to the cold pull in her guts, the manifestation of apprehension.

 _Thunk_.

The sound was startling and out of the blue, and Judy's eyes flashed about the room to try and determine the source. She lacked the night vision of the fox however.

"What was that?" She asked, much too quickly to hide her nervousness.

"Me," Vivienne responded, "the camera won't bother us any longer." She walked towards the spot where the red light formerly shined and reached up towards it. A flash of metal followed; she'd used some sort of thrown blade to sever an unprotected wire.

"That's rather impressive, Mrs. Wilde," Judy said, feeling useless.

The vixen's tail swished as she spoke. "Vivienne, please." She produced a flashlight from her magical handbag. Judy found herself wondering how much room she had for normal items in there. It was only the length and height of most letters after all.

"The phone voice said to look for a delivery in Nick's name," Judy said, taking in the room with the ambient light of Vivienne's torch.

"Indeed. Here," Vivienne said, holding out the flashlight, "you need this more than me. I'll check the newest ones out here. There's a storeroom in the back that we passed on the way in."

Judy found the door easily enough. Opening it revealed a narrow, but long, room stacked with shelves on either side that reached the ceiling, six tiers high. Thankfully they weren't all filled, and most of the arrangements were identical and looked to be large orders for weddings or other such events. Hopping between shelves was easy, and soon Judy came across a humble arrangement about midway down the length of the room on the fourth tier. Hanging from it was a tag. It read: _To Samantha Wilde, From the Rest of Us. May your memory continue to inspire._

"I think I found something," Judy called.

"Oh?" Vivienne's head appeared around the doorway. "Do tell!"

"It's an arrangement addressed to a Samantha Wilde. It's the only mention of the name 'Wilde' that I can find in here." There was a long pause before Vivienne responded.

"It's the right one."

Judy turned at the sudden change in tone. The vixen's cheery and swashbuckling demeanor was replaced with a sullen, clinical quality. "Is there something wrong?"

"No, no. I know exactly where he wants us to go; he's used this particular drop point before, but only in times of great trial. Something very bad is going on."

"Oh," Judy said, hopping off the shelving unit, "and where is this 'bad news' drop point?"

"The grave of my infant daughter, Nicolas's sister."

Judy's breath caught in her throat. Nick had never said anything about having a sister. He'd never mentioned much about his family in general, so Judy hadn't bothered to ask, figuring he'd reveal what he wanted to when he felt like doing so. But _this_ news was a bit shocking. "O-oh," Judy repeated, unable to form the right words, "I…don't know what to say."

Vivienne smiled sadly. "It's quite alright. No words are needed for the harshness of reality." Her eyes fell on the floral arrangement above them. "Nicolas was the only surviving kit of his litter as well. My body decided I would need to try very hard to have children, it seems. Samantha only lasted six weeks, but in that time Nicolas had grown rather attached. He was devastated. I don't think he spoke more than a word for a month afterward."

Judy instinctively went to rub her paw with the other, arms folded in front of her in a subconscious expression of sympathy, but only found the cold touch of steel. She gazed down at her prosthetic hand. Harshness of reality indeed.

"I…can't say I understand what you and your family went through. I come from a huge family that's still growing. If I went back tomorrow there would be a whole new group of children that I'd need to learn the names of." She met eyes with the vixen. "Death was part of our reality with old relatives and some newborns, but it didn't seem to ever hurt quite as much as hearing about your story."

Vivienne nodded in understanding. "The fact that you sympathize is enough; it shows how caring you are."

They traded a smile, then glanced back up to the flowers. "To Samantha's grave, then?" Judy asked.

"To Samantha's grave."

…

Fey tapped the steering wheel, eyes locked on the flower shop, ears perked and sifting through the sounds that filtered in through his open window. He wore an amorphous cap and round spectacles as a sort of disguise; it had been some time since he'd handed Mr. White's first ominous letter to the fox and rabbit officer, true, but in his experience being careful always paid off. He held a map in his lap that he could snatch up in an instant to "pour over" if Hopps happened to catch sight of him.

Taking a drag on his cigarette cast his dashboard in a dull red glow. The barrel of his scoped .308 gleamed menacingly as it leaned within arm's reach. He smirked. Mr. White knew he was being watched. Word travelled quickly in the underworld, especially among thieves. The vixen had apparently taken notice of some of his employer's activities and warned someone.

Mr. White was not pleased with this; Danny Fey wanted to change that. So here he sat, having tracked down the rabbit, and consequently the vixen, who had taken special interest in Officer Wilde for some reason. But that didn't matter; what was important was stopping them from impeding Mr. White's plans.

Danny took a triumphant drag as the BMW exited the alley next to the flower shop. He sat in still silence as the car turned onto Fruitvale, about half a block ahead. He tossed his cigarette butt out the window before starting up and sliding into the lane. He followed at a distance, using his trained eyes to track them in the sparse early morning traffic, utilizing his legendary patience. A smirk crossed his lips as the car took the exit onto the M-790 highway, toward the meadowlands.

That would explain the flowers.

His suspicions were confirmed a short time later when the BMW pulled off the road and up to the front gate of a sprawling cemetery. He continued past, glancing in his rearview mirror to double-check that he hadn't been spotted. Seeing the vixen roll down her window to talk to an old badger groundskeeper filled him with a small sense of relief coupled with quiet pride. He took the next right, up a winding road he knew overlooked the cemetery.

A perfect firing angle.

…

"Mornin' to ya Mrs. Wilde," the elderly badger said, touching the brim of his drivers cap. A sad, knowing expression hung on his face; Vivienne had obviously been here before at odd hours. "Coming to see Sam again?"

"Indeed I am, Reggie," Vivienne said, through the open window, "I hope you don't mind."

"Oh not at all, ma'am. Seeing you here so often puts a big ol' smile on my face. It's good to see such love nowadays." He turned to the swooping, elegant gate blocking their entry and undid the chain. He opened one side of it and gave them a thumbs-up.

"Thank you, dear," Vivienne said on the way by, her expression genuine. Judy smiled at the whole exchange while watching the windshield through the bouquet she held on the seat between her legs.

They drove through the winding roads of the hilly cemetery in silence. A chilly morning breeze filtered in through Vivienne's open window, but it wasn't unpleasant. Graves of all shapes and sizes glided past on either side, all manners of burial rituals Judy could even think of. A couple Cairns dotted the distant hills, obscured by the receding fog. Graves in the shapes of ships, towers, some with horns and tusks adorning them, some sporting colorful designs, others very plain and modest, all had a place. Cresting a small knoll revealed a patch of dirt with remnants of funeral pyres in the distance.

The car glided to a halt. Judy looked to Vivienne, who smiled wistfully. "We have to do some walking, if you don't mind."

"Not at all," Judy said. They exited the car, but before Judy could make it two steps, Vivienne was by her side.

"Let me take that," she said sweetly, "it's half your size."

Judy couldn't argue. She smirked, and let the vixen handle the floral arrangement. It _was_ her daughter after all, it was only right for her to deliver the flowers, even if it wasn't the main reason for the visit.

Soon they came across a mausoleum. It was plain, built of grey rock with a granite foundation. The grass around it was trimmed, but it was lined on either side by large rose bushes, onto which clung and spread long, twisting arms of ivy that climbed the somber walls. Across the top, etched into the stone were the words "The Little Ones."

Vivienne stopped and regarded it, gripping the flowers with both paws on slack arms. The distant sounds of birds and wind through the trees were the only noises breaking the stillness. Dew still clung to the shorn blades of grass and fallen leaves that dotted the area. Droplets of water fell from the tree above the structure, thin veins of discolored stone running down the walls.

" _To the newborns, toddlers, bundles, and unknown young that were taken too soon. May they be sheltered forever from the hardships of the world, and frolic through the meadows of eternity. May their laughter grace us in our times of tribulation. May we strive to be as pure of heart,_ " read the plaque beside the entrance.

Judy's paw instinctively went to her chest; this was a burial site designated specifically for children and babies.

"Things were harder for us foxes back then," Vivienne said from behind her. "Samantha's remains were moved here only a decade ago. They wouldn't let us bury her with other children or in a grave of her own in most cases."

"That's horrible," Judy croaked, voice hardly above a whisper. How could such a cruelty be allowed? Not being able to bury your own _child_?

The vixen sighed, stepping forward and retrieving her keyring. She unlocked the gated entryway, which creaked on its hinges slightly. Judy followed her inside.

Their soft footsteps echoes on the marble floor. Judy scanned the space in wonder; it was breathtaking. A great, stained-glass skylight cast beams of red wine, cold turquoise, and an array of fall colors onto the surrounding walls, the floor reflecting the early morning sunlight rather well. Niches of varying sizes reached the ceiling, housing urns ranging from decadent and ornate to the simplest, heartfelt pots. They swept upwards in a clockwise direction as opposed to being on shelves straight across. The whole place was exceptionally clean and well-maintained.

"This is the one," Vivienne said, kneeling and setting the flowers on the floor. Judy made her way over as the fox sat and crossed her legs, leaning on the mausoleum wall. The urn was small, maybe half Judy's height, but it sat atop a large block base to fill in the space and double its stature. "Good morning, my little one," Vivienne whispered, tracing the back of her index finger over the name on the urn, "What gifts are you hiding for us?"

Judy watched in silence, fighting the growing lump in her throat. She needed to focus, remain professional dammit!

Vivienne's paw disappeared around the back off the urn and into the shadows. "Ah," she whispered, "what is this?" She pulled a black briefcase into her lap, dusting it off.

"W-wow," Judy stuttered. "I can see why this is an excellent hiding place…"

Vivienne gave a melancholy chuckle, nodding. "However unpleasant it may be, it does have its uses. Like I said before, this place is only used in dire circumstances. What's in this case is for our eyes only, and Nick's. To anyone else, the contents don't exist."

Judy nodded. "Yes ma'am."

Vivienne turned back to the urn. "I'll be back soon, dear. Thank you." She deposited the flowers beside it and stood, leading Judy out of the entrance, briefcase in hand. "I hope you don't mind me inviting you to my house for breakfast, and perhaps nap," she said, locking the gate, "I need to make sure you're safe – "

Judy heard the pause, but was fiddling with her prosthetic arm, tracing the lines in her palm with a finger. "That won't be a problem. It would be nice to feel like I don't have to watch my back every waking moment…" Her voice trailed off as she noticed Vivienne's body language had changed drastically. Her tail was straight out, fur on the back of her neck elevated, ears perked and forward, eyes locked on the horizon over Judy's head.

Vivienne sniffed. "I know that scent."

"Scent?"

"Yes. Only one mammal I know smokes cigarettes that smell like that."

That's when Judy caught the familiar odor. It was a unique tobacco…one could almost call it spicy. Something glinted on a distant hillside –

Vivienne suddenly whirled around, seizing Judy and diving behind the mausoleum as a spray of rock dust erupted from one of the walls. The deep thunder of a rifle rippled over the landscape as they landed.

"Holy mother of cranberries!" Judy squealed, adrenaline firing through her system. She was instantly back on her feet, back pressed against the prickling rosebush wall beside the structure. Vivienne joined her, ears still alert.

"We've only got about thirty-five yards to go before the hill obscures us," she said, pointing down the short path. "Unless, of course, he's moving, which would be very like him."

"Who the hell is this guy?" Judy asked frantically; the chunk of the wall the bullet blasted through meant the rifle was big enough to blow her in half.

"Daniel Fey," Vivienne said through clenched teeth, "I've had a few run-ins with him before. He makes his money killing for others at a distance."

"Oh shit, shit, shit…" Judy breathed. Her legs were beginning to tremble. Everything that had happened in the past twenty four hours was hitting her at once, and her lack of sleep didn't help. She felt a paw on her shoulder.

"Breathe dear, we'll get out of this. Like I said, I've dealt with him before."

Vivienne's words did little to calm Judy's thrumming nerves, but she put on a brave face nonetheless. The fox crawled to peer around the rosebushes.

"There you are you manky twat," she grumbled before pulling her head back. "He's moved," she said, "he knows we'll make a run for it."

"Then what do we _do_?!"

"Wait for him to reload, of course." Vivienne scanned their surroundings.

Judy clamped her eyes shut and focused on slowing her breathing down. She used a technique Chief Bogo had taught her that involved standing with strength. It was during a random outing over coffee that the chief had revealed that he was once horrible with public speaking, that even though he was eight feet tall and nearly two thousand pounds of solid cape buffalo, he couldn't help but feel small in a room surrounded by other mammals. Judy pulled her shoulders back, puffed out her chest, held her head level, lightly flexed the muscles in her arms, bent her knees slightly, and dug her toes into the ground. This provided breathing room and balance, grounding her, allowing her to regain control of her panic, her mind to clear. "Anything I can do?" She asked.

"I'm trying to figure that out," Vivienne said. She suddenly slipped her black turtleneck and blue scarf off, revealing a simple tank top beneath.

"Wh – " Judy began in confusion, but saw the plan form as Vivienne then slipped her tail through the neck of the jumper, tying the scarf on the top.

"As soon as he fires, sprint for the car. I'll be right behind you," she said, handing Judy the briefcase, "we'll only have about four seconds before he reloads and regains his firing angle."

A breath escaped Judy's lips. "We can do this."

Vivienne winked, then inched backwards, using her tail to give the illusion of herself taking another peek around the building. The bullet came two seconds later, followed by a yelp from Mrs. Wilde. Following instructions, Judy immediately bolted down the path, her own breathing and pounding footsteps in her ears. Two more booming reports followed, but she didn't slow down or turn back. Vivienne could handle herself, right?

She slid to a halt in front of the car passenger door, only to find it locked. "Shit!" she swore, whipping around. Vivienne was nowhere to be seen. "Oh god!" She shouted, "Vivienne!"

The door behind her unlocked. "I'm here, love, don't worry yourself!" Vivienne was already climbing into the driver's seat. Judy gasped with relief, then tore her door open.

"Go! Go!" She shouted as the car started. The vixen dropped it into gear, rear tires flailing on the dirt as she whipped it into the opposite direction. They soon hit pavement. Judy sat back in her seat, breathing hard. They'd made it, they'd escaped death. A dark thought crossed her mind, making her grin. "Hey, if we didn't make it, they wouldn't have to move us too far – "

They both ducked as the rear and front passenger windows shattered almost simultaneously. Judy turned in her seat to peer through the gaping space the rear glass once occupied and spied a figure in the distance, near the mausoleum. It was definitely a buck, his headgear visible topping off his silhouette, at an angle as his head tipped into the glinting scope of his rifle. As they steadily gained distance on the twisting roads, Judy saw the figure lower his rifle. He stood there watching them until he himself was obscured by the rolling hills of the burial grounds.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12: The Instigator, or the Avenger

Judy's eyes flew open, and she sat up with a gasp. Nick's body lay on its side against the far corner of the room, still, lifeless, bathed in crimson. His eyes still stared into hers, glazed over with the onset of death, their light faded with a layer of dust. The fossa's cackle echoed from everywhere, reverberating throughout the room.

She shrieked, frantically searching the room for the source of the maniacal giggling, clutching to her chest…a blanket? She stared down at the hand-knit afghan, breathing hard. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion, she looked back to the spot Nick's body occupied. No trace. She must have been dreaming…but whose couch was this? And house?

These questions were answered a moment later by the sound of hurried paws on hardwood, followed by Mrs. Wilde peering around the far wall, a concerned look on her face. "Are you alright dear?"

Judy nodded, then collapsed back onto the couch and pillows provided for her. "I think so…I was dreaming."

"Must have been rather unpleasant. Is there anything I can do for you? I just put the kettle on for tea if you'd like…"

Judy regarded the vixen, then the outrageously comfortable sleeping arrangement in which she lay, then shrugged. "Well, you've done so much for me already, I'm not sure how to repay you. But tea does sound lovely."

Vivienne smiled. "There's no need to repay anything. My mothering habits are hard to break I suppose, though, you _are_ rather easy to take care of." She turned to leave with a swish of her bushy tail, which was tightly wound around the middle with what looked like gauze.

"Oh, Mrs. Wilde!" Judy said. The vixen's head appeared again.

"Yes, dear?"

"What time is it?"

"Nearly half-passed eleven in the morning. And remember: call me Vivienne." She gave another smile, then headed down the hallway that was apparently behind the wall.

Staring at the ceiling, she tried to recount the events of the early morning. She could recall the trip to the flower shop, the heartbreaking revelation of Nick's deceased infant sister, the graveyard…and being shot at…diving into the car after thinking Vivienne was lost…watching the vixen's blood soak into the upholstery as they drove through traffic…then, nothing. She didn't remember falling asleep. She must have been far more exhausted than she thought.

Judy sat up again. Atop an ottoman beside her was a fresh set of clothes, neatly folded. A creased piece of paper leaned against the stack.

 _In the somewhat likely case that I'm absent when you wake up, I've modified some of my clothes to fit you. I apologize in advance if they don't fit well; I didn't feel the need to disturb your sleep to get the proper measurements. There's a shower down the hall to the right if you feel the need to wash up. I also apologize for not taking you to your home. Things are dangerous now, and I felt it would be best to keep you nearby._

 _Cheers, Vivienne_

 _P.S. You're welcome to any food, of course._

A smile wormed its way across her face as her eyes traced the ornate handwriting. How utterly kind of her. She shook open the shirt, revealing a brown button-up with breast pockets that looked to be part of some kind of ex-military or law enforcement getup. The trousers were no less practical; durable material, dirty green in color, and festooned with pockets. It all looked like it would fit, but Judy decided to first take advantage of the shower Vivienne so generously offered.

She gathered the clothes to her chest and made for the hallway. She found the bathroom easily enough and started into her shower. It was clean but small, one of those old-fashioned freestanding bathtub-shower combinations one usually saw in cartoons.

After a few minutes of enjoying the delicious aromas of citrus and coconut, a sense of unease began to wash over her. It may have just been the remnants of her nightmare, but she could swear she heard the whispering cackle again. Shadows shifted whenever she dared peek from behind the shower curtain. When she closed her eyes, different images presented themselves: Nick's bloody teeth revealed by his snarl, the deranged gleam in the fossa's yellow eyes as she and Judy scuffled, the blood splatters on the cabinet and the kitchen floor. She could still hear the dying shrieks of the fossa, and the sickening crunching and suctioning noises of her demise. Something seemed to be approaching, a deep rumble growing, almost drowned out by her heartbeat. Then she heard the rifle shots.

She felt her flesh leg give out, and she gripped the edge of the tub for support, lowering herself shakily until she sat beneath the rain of steaming water. Her heart pounded a mile a minute, and she panted to match. She took a shuddering gasp, hand still white-knuckled on the edge of the tub. She brought the other to her face to pointlessly catch the tears that streamed out of her eyes to join the rest of her water running down her head and body. Violent sobs racked her frame. She curled into a ball, hiding her eyes from the menaces of the world. What was wrong with everything? Why was all of this happening? Was this the price she had to pay to make the world a better place?

 _Weak_.

The word formed in her head as an idea, no voice behind it, stoic and silent as a disappointed mentor. She imagined what her fellow officers would say to find her like this, the media, anyone, to see the despondent rabbit in an utterly incapacitated state, unarmed by her own devices. The thought redoubled her tear production. She swore and took another shaky breath. What she would give to have Nick there to comfort her, to wrap her in his arms and smother her with his tail.

She hugged herself and leaned against the tub wall. Staring at the water going down the drain wasn't helping anything. Neither was letting her emotions get the better of her. She steadied her breathing through sheer force of will, talking herself off the ledge in her head.

She was Judy Hopps, the first rabbit officer in the ZPD, the _only_ recruit to take down Basher, the rhino used to teach prospective officers how to box and defeat larger opponents. She was in the care of Nick's own mother who, judging by the events of that morning, was more than she appeared to be. The fossa was dead, and Nick killed her in defense while fueled by adrenaline and suffering from head trauma. She and Vivienne had survived that morning and escaped.

Judy laid on her back, keeping her head out of the stream of water, and took a handful of deep breaths. It seemed to be helping. She imagined Nick's sly smile and cool, knowing gaze. He would always be there for her, she knew, in thought if not in body. After a few minutes, her mind put at ease, she stood, the muscles in her left leg still trembling, and finished her shower.

…

After drying and dressing - the clothes turned out to fit marvelously - Judy found Vivienne in her kitchen, teacup and saucer to the right of a small, open journal before her, fountain pen in her left paw. She wore dark jeans and a striped shirt beneath a simple grey cardigan, looking rather comfortable.

"Feeling refreshed, dear?" Vivienne said without looking up from her writing.

"Yes," Judy croaked, then cleared her throat, "Your soap and shampoo collection is lovely."

"I only reserve the best for my guests," the vixen said. She set her pen down and glanced up at Judy with a smile. "Especially those who catch my son's fancy."

The bunny returned the smile as she took a seat across from Vivienne.

"Oh!" Vivienne said with a start, closing the journal, "You wanted tea, yes? I've kept the pot hot for you." She stood, fetching another dainty teacup and saucer and placing the set before Judy.

"I mean, how can I refuse?" Judy asked, impressed once again with the grace of the aging fox.

"Quite simple: all you need to say is 'no,'" Vivienne said, turning back with a steaming kettle and filling a fine china teapot in the center of the small table. The floral aromas almost immediately reached Judy's nose, and they set her mouth to watering.

"Well everything in me is saying 'yes.' It smells delicious by the way," Judy said, taking in another breath of curing tea leaves.

"This is a loose-leaf blend I grow myself," Vivienne said, preparing something on a nearby countertop, "I suppose it would be classified as a black tea, though it's rather light. I may or may not have garnished it with some tea leaves I found at Otterton's flower shop this morning." The vixen pursed her lips and sarcastically looked towards the ceiling.

Judy smirked, exactly three chuckled escaping her. Before she could make a sarcastic comment of her own, Vivienne glided to the table, setting a platter of various fruits, nuts, vegetables, slices of bread, and an array of small dishes of jams and chutneys. Judy blinked.

"Eat as much as you'd like; I know you rabbits have incredible metabolisms, and you haven't eaten in the entire time I've seen you." Vivienne's smile was kind, knowing.

Judy regarded her, the food, and the dull pull of hunger that was making itself more known by the second. "You…didn't have to do all this for me," she said. All her life, she was used to doing most things herself. Belonging to such a huge family meant you grew up in packs and served functions accordingly. This bred a high level of independence, so she simply wasn't used to being catered to in any way.

"Of course I did, dear! What kind of host would I be if I didn't?" She poured tea into the small vessel before Judy. "Sugar?"

"I-I'm just not used to this…is all," she said, sliding the small sugar jar towards herself and removing the lid. "I've had to do most things myself, so forgive my awkwardness."

"Oh it's nothing new to me, love; most mammals are under-appreciated, even if they don't realize it. The smallest gestures are often the biggest kindnesses in the end. It's a habit of mine to show this appreciation where I think it's needed."

Judy nodded as she gently stirred the sugar into her tea. "I certainly appreciate your appreciation, but now all I want to do is return the favor somehow."

The vixen sat across from her, crossing one leg over the other and folding her hands in her lap. "Taking care of my Nicolas is an excellent means of reimbursement."

"I can do that," Judy said, nodding and gingerly sipping some tea.

Vivienne shrugged. "And, perhaps, not connecting the dots too often when heists may or may not involve certain… _skills_ that you witnessed this morning. I do follow a code of ethics after all, ironic as that may sound."

Judy bobbed her head in agreement again, having just taken a bite of chutney and cucumber. "I follow a code of ethics too," she said after wiping her mouth with a napkin, "and, while your unmentionable activities _might_ disagree with my personal feelings, I'm willing to turn a blind eye. I've learned that the underworld has its uses, and it stabilizes a surprising amount of daily life."

"I'm thrilled that you have the aptitude to develop such a realistic and mature world-view."

Judy shrugged through another mouthful. "The world is messy and complicated, so as long as what goes on ends up creating livable conditions, I'm usually pretty okay with it."

Vivienne nodded, then continued writing in her small booklet after a beat of silence. Judy ate in equal quietness, letting her eyes wander the kitchen and what she could see of the house. Clocks of various kinds adorned the walls, but didn't crowd them, leaving space for artworks and pictures amidst elegantly arranged galleries. Strangely, there were no pictures of Nick, or Vivienne herself. No images family or other animals of any kind could be found anywhere nearby, and Judy didn't remember seeing any in the sitting room where she'd slept. Where the tile of the kitchen ended, salt and pepper carpet began. The house, much like Nick's bungalow, was of a very open plan; only a couple hallways existed. The floors were adorned with exotic yet tasteful rugs, and there were small hints that Vivienne was well-travelled: trinkets from many Asian countries, small potted plants from various corners of the globe nested on shelves and atop corner tables and bookcases, different stylistic influences in choice of colors and furniture construction, the subtle, long-ago burnt scents of incenses, and the occasional small tapestry or totem.

A light chiming sound echoed through the house, and both mammal's ears perked up. "They're late," Vivienne said, standing and making her way back through the kitchen.

Judy detected the de-pressurization of a door opening, and heard two voices. One was Vivienne, and the other was a male voice she didn't recognize. She continued eating and listening, and was about to take a sip of tea when she froze, teacup pressed to her lips. Vivienne rounded the corner, and beside her walked a hare with dark grey fur, long ears that bore jagged, black stripes that cascaded down to ring the sides of his face, and an expression that could charm the pants off even the staunchest drill sergeant. He was devilishly handsome, and well-dressed in a form-fitting, black polo shirt and brown trousers. He carried himself with evident balance and self-awareness, and Judy could immediately tell he could handle himself in any type of physical altercation.

"I do apologize for my surprise, Jack, this was quite unexpected," Vivienne was saying.

"Thank you for inviting me in nonetheless. You know how boring it can get, Viv, and I figured you would be able to provide _some_ kind of break from the monotony." His voice was musical, smooth, accent very similar to the vixen's.

"I should hope so, though I'm afraid I can't guarantee much in the form of entertainment you're used to."

"No worries, Viv; all I wanted was someone to socialize with, to catch up, see what's happening in the rest of the worl – well hello there," Jack said, suddenly noticing Judy. He turned back to Vivienne and grabbing her wrist in mock astonishment, "I didn't know you were going _clean_ Vivienne! Hosting hero cops in your own home now?!"

Teacup still pressed to her lips, Judy quickly slurped before awkwardly setting it back onto the table.

"Oh hush now!" Vivienne said, giving his paw a light smack. "I suppose I should formally introduce you two then. Jack, this is Officer Judy Hopps, of the ZPD."

Judy stood, taking a couple steps towards the two and holding out her hand, "Pleased to meet you, mister?"

"Savage," he said, his wink sending a strange shudder through Judy, "Jack Savage." He turned back to the vixen, holding up a large plastic bag of cookies Judy had failed to notice. "Where would you like these, ma'am?"

"Oh don't worry yourself," Vivienne said, swiping the bag from him and depositing it on the counter in the kitchen.

"I followed your work on the Night Howler case, been a big admirer ever since," Jack said, turning back to Judy, "You're making us jumpy tykes look pretty damn good."

"Oh, well – uh," she stuttered. His eyes were nearly as blue as Vivienne's, but whereas hers were dazzling, his were smoky, mysterious. "Thank you," she finally managed.

He smirked, apparently amused at how much his presence was disrupting her thinking process. "Please, don't let me interrupt your meal; you must be famished after your little escapade this morning."

"And which escapade would that be?" Vivienne asked, rearranging some dishes.

"The flower delivery and all that."

Judy froze halfway back to her chair. "How did you - ?"

"Like I said," Jack said with a shrug, "things have been pretty quiet around here. Quiet means boring. Who do I usually go to when I'm bored? Vivienne of course. And, well, I've got to keep myself sharp _somehow_."

Vivienne snorted. "I _thought_ that was you in the hospital parking lot. We certainly could've used some help in the bloody cemetery."

Judy sat and sipped once again as Jack spoke. "I'm, well," he glanced at the other bunny, then at Vivienne, who nodded, "I'm not active right now. I also didn't have a rifle on me so I wouldn't have been of much use." He tipped his chin at the kitchen counter. "The cookies were partly to apologize for that, but you two made it out just fine."

"Apart from this, dear," Vivienne said, flourishing her tail, middle still wrapped in gauze.

"Ah, yes, well, ingenuity has its drawbacks on occasion."

Judy giggled through her nose, watching the whole exchange while continuing to eat. "So what do you do, Mr. Savage?" She asked after swallowing.

"Please, call me Jack," he said, clasping his paws in front of him, one ear half-bent forward, "and…I'm not really allowed to tell you. Suffice it to say that I'm a behind the scenes sort of guy. It's just that I'm looked upon in a more positive light - legally speaking - than our good friend Viv here."

Vivienne snorted a laugh. "At least I don't get _bored_!"

Jack shrugged again, closing his eyes and tipping his head to the side. "I concede defeat. I do get bored quite often, but that's a price I'm willing to pay." He sat to Judy's right, in one of the four spaces at the medium-sized table. "But that also means I have plenty of time to come pester my favorite vixen, isn't that right, darling?" he said, looking up at Vivienne as she walked around the table behind him.

"Psh," she mouthed, ruffling his hair between his ears. "Tea's on the table if you'd like some. You know where the cups are." She disappeared to another part of the house, taking the small journal and pen with her.

"Yes ma'am," he said, smirking and smoothing his hair again. He retrieved a teacup from the cabinet and sat back down, silently pouring himself a serving of the steaming liquid.

Judy could feel his eyes on her as he stirred in a scoop of sugar, but it wasn't off-putting. The way they moved and what they paused on related that they were well-trained for instantly detecting certain details. He wasn't necessarily undressing her with his eyes. This was backed up by his expression darkening as his gaze came to rest on her right paw, the only part of her arm showing due to her long sleeves.

"I saw what they did at the station," he said joylessly, "It was horrid and uncalled for. You really are a symbol for perseverance, Miss Hopps, and I hope with all my heart that you continue to carry that quality through the world with you. It shows your true strength and character."

Judy blinked at this. She frowned and stared down at the table as she deliberated on how to respond.

"I know a few fellows who've had to be fitted with prosthetics as well," he continued, "makes everything that much more difficult."

"These aren't so bad," Judy said, glancing at her paw and flexing the fingers.

"Indeed, those are some of the best I've ever seen." He leaned forward slightly, his voice softening. "But it's what you don't see that is hardest of all. You've…lost a part of yourself, and that can be difficult to deal with; no prosthetic will ever be the equal of your own flesh and blood. Just…mind that you don't lose part of who you are as well. That would be tragic." He sipped his tea and sat back.

Judy continued to examine her mechanical paw, nodding at his words. "I'll keep that in mind."

The chiming of Vivienne's doorbell echoed through the house again. "It's about bloody time," she muttered under her breath as she glided past them once more, bound for the front door.

This time the vibrations of three voices reached her ears. One matched the vocal tones of Vivienne, while the other two were male, one of them distinctively bass. Both were familiar. Her chewing slowed, and she squinted as the reverberation of heavy footfalls approached from the other end of the house. "Ch-chief Bogo!" She exclaimed, nearly choking as the hulking cape buffalo stooped through the kitchen entryway.

"Afternoon, Hopps," Bogo said with a curt nod, "It's good to see you up and moving again." Despite obvious efforts to the contrary, his expression softened.

"Thank you, sir," Judy said, smiling warmly, "I'm glad you're alright too."

"As am I." He turned and nodded at Jack. "And who might you be?"

"Jack Savage," he said, standing and holding out his paw, "pleased to meet you, Chief Bogo."

Bogo had to stoop before his hooved fingers engulfed Jack's entire hand, but they managed to shake nonetheless. The cape buffalo's eyes squinted, and he turned one eye towards the hare. "Pleasure's all mine… _Savage_." It was more questioning than threatening. The two held eye contact for a beat before separating.

"So what brings you here, Chief?" Judy asked.

"Well it _started_ as a favor, but I'm afraid things have…developed rather quickly."

"A favor?"

"Yes," Bogo said, stooping to peer back the way he came, "To him."

He stepped aside, revealing Nick, walking arm-in-arm with Vivienne, moving smoothly but slowly, fresh bandages wrapped around his head. He regarded her with a jubilant gleam to his sunken eyes, his grin tightening at the corners of his mouth. "Hey you."

Judy's chin, throat, and chest tightened. She rose silently from her chair and walked straight to the fox, burying her face in his chest and wrapping her arms around him. "Nick…" She couldn't think of what else to say. A single sound, not unlike a sob, escaped her, but it was not grief-related. She felt his arms move to encompass her, one between her shoulders, the other gently grasping the back of her head.

"There we go," he said soothingly, "deep breaths, I'm here."

A few moments of blissful quiet passed before Bogo cleared his throat. "Alright, kids, break it up now, I think we have important matters to discuss."

"Yea, we do," Nick said, "Like I need to be introduced to this guy." He pointed to Jack, palm flat.

"Nick," Judy said, turning, "This is Jack Savage. Jack, this is Nick Wilde, my partner on the force." She noticed Jack's expression had shifted to one of wonder and admiration, almost like a child meeting their hero. Something about his smile was of a different countenance however, one she couldn't put a finger on.

"Mr. Wilde," the hare said, nodding as the two shook hands in greeting. "Viv," he said, looking to the vixen who stood behind Nick, "you never told me your son was a burnished specimen of perfection!"

"Of course I have, you just never believed me," Vivienne said, paws on her hips.

Jack chuckled, then raised his eyebrows. "What was that about important matters to discuss?"

"Oh shit, yea! Mom," Nick asked, "do you have a computer we can use?"

"Yes, of course," Vivienne said, turning to walk to a different part of the house.

"Is it a laptop?" Nick asked after her.

Vivienne's laugh reached their ears. "Nicolas, I'm old, not daft."

Judy giggled, then tapped Nick's nose above her. "Sounds like someone needs to visit his mom more often."

"Yep, I do actually," He said, flattening his lips and giving the floor a glance.

Vivienne reemerged with a silver-colored laptop, which she opened before setting on the kitchen table, pushing her own dishes out of the way. It came to life in a few seconds, loading a background picture of a striking autumn countryside blanketed by mist and vividly green grasses and evergreen trees.

Judy reluctantly released her grip on Nick as he sat in front of the device, grimacing the whole way down. He quickly pulled up Zoogle, then searched Zootopia's main news website. "I'm assuming Jack here is allowed to be involved in all this?" Nick asked.

"I think he's rather qualified," Vivienne said.

Nick shrugged. "The Chief and I saw this up on the monitors and billboards on our way here. I think Mr. White has finally shown his face." He turned to Judy and Vivienne, "It isn't pretty." He clicked the curser pad, turned up the volume, then turned the laptop towards them.

" _Hello Zootopia_ ," came a dark, gravelly voice. Judy walked forward to get a better view. On the screen was what resembled a creature Judy had only heard about in encyclopedias and scary campfire stories. A white monitor lizard's long snout was cast in shadow, eyes unseen. His teeth bared as he spoke, his snarling syllables occasionally punctuated by the flicking of a long, forked tongue.

" _I…am Mr. White. I am to be the master of the rest of your miserable lives. Don't worry, it won't be a long engagement. In fact, I may not even need to be present once I plant the rightful seeds of distrust."_

There was a pause as the figure drew in a ragged breath.

" _You have been washed in a vile bath of mud and corruption. For instance, I doubt many of you will know what I am. My existence was conveniently left out of all the history books, and the only entries you may find of my species will tell you that we live far, far away. Never would your government admit to you that we used to live here. I myself was born not twenty miles from your beloved city, in a small village along the water._ "

The serrated teeth were bared. Judy watched, spellbound, conscious of the terror and confusion twisting at her heart.

" _We lived peacefully, within our own means. We prospered and traded. We may not have fur…we may lay eggs instead of birthing as you do…but we are not so different from you._ "

Another guttural breath, the snarling visage growing deeper.

" _But this didn't seem to_ matter _. You call us monsters, and cower in our presence. You slaughter us for your own protection, driven by delusions of superiority. Does Atwater ring a bell? I know it does to some of you. You know who you are. All will know what you did, all will know who to blame for what follows._ "

The creature's snout disappeared, and the camera was adjusted. It swiveled and zoomed slightly to focus on a tigress bound heavily to a chair, a muzzle over her snout. She looked exhausted and malnourished, indicated by her drooping ears and heavy eyelids, her head sagging over her body. She was dressed in a dirty tank top and jeans.

"That's Laura Parker, Senator Parker's daughter!" Bogo said, "She was reported missing over a week ago."

Immense clawed hands appeared behind her, the rest of the body obscured by the shadows, and undid the muzzle. " _Anything you'd like to say, dear? Perhaps…to your_ father _? He's the one at fault after all. You should blame him for getting you into this mess,_ " Mr. White said. " _It's only a taste of the medicine dealt. A deed repaid._ "

The tigress sobbed, turning away from the camera. _"He told me everything, Dad. I know what you did._ " Her voice trembled.

A foreboding laugh echoed through the room, unsettling the pit of Judy's stomach. " _See, senator, even your own children want nothing to do with you after learning the truth._ " There was the sound of something heavy unrolling, like a thick chain mixed with the rumble of tank treads. " _Pay attention and imagine, if you will, this feeling, this event, the snuffing out of one's flame, the end of one's life, repeated two hundred and seventy seven times._ Two. Hundred," more metallic and scraping sounds emanated from the room as the tigress's eyes grew wide, "and seventy. SEVEN!"

Laura's terrified shriek was cut short as her body was impacted by something that stretched off to the right of the shot. The object streaked through the frame, slamming into the space between her neck and shoulder. Her body buckled around it, shattering her and the chair. Blood burst forth in a geyser as she and her seat were driven to the floor, the concussion sending a resounding boom through the space, shaking the camera. Concrete dust billowed into shot.

"My god," Vivienne whispered, paw over her mouth. Bogo swore under his breath above them all, and Judy's grip on Nick's sleeve increased exponentially.

The camera shook and moved, apparently having been grabbed. " _There are forty seven more to get through!_ " Mr. White roared, revealing his whole face for the first time. Streams of crimson trickled out of his eyes. " _Observe your government's actions…carefully. Ask yourself: does the blame fall on the instigator, or the avenger?_ "


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13: Atwater

Silence blanketed the five mammals in the room. Each stared at the screen, each dealing with their own cyclone of emotions. Nick's eyes were hollow as they locked with Judy's, his lips pressed together into a thin line. Vivienne's hand was still over her heart, mouth slightly agape in shock. Jack had crossed his arms, and he regarded the screen with an angry expression, like the thunder on the horizon that hinted at a storm.

"This was broadcast live?" Jack asked.

"Yea. We saw…bits and pieces before we got here," Nick said, recalling the soundless images dancing across the screens within the city, "You must have just missed it."

Jack grunted in response. Then his phone vibrated, and he retrieved it from his pants pocket and stared at the screen. As he did, his relaxed ears suddenly pointed straight up. "Viv," he said, "do you have a shortwave radio?"

"I-I…yes. Somewhere." Nick knew something was very wrong; his mother was a mammal that didn't spook easily. Vivienne shook her head and walked away once again, but Nick could detect the veil of shock and disbelief that hung over her eyes.

"What do you need that for?" Bogo asked.

Jack looked up, once again unintimidated by the buffalo. "To receive my orders."

"Orders?" Judy asked.

Jack sighed, then rubbed his eyes. "I'm a sleeper agent with MI6." He removed his paws from his face and flicked his gaze between the three of them as he spoke. "Mr. White is my target. I was supposed to monitor his activity and find him in case he started causing trouble."

"So he's on your shit-list?" Nick asked, "Why haven't you taken him out yet?"

Jack gave Nick a bored expression. "He may be on our 'shit-list,' but that doesn't mean we can go after him without good reason. We've known he's a bad animal for a while, but we just needed evidence that he was doing bad _things_. That, and he's proven impossible to locate. None of our contacts within the city can pinpoint his location." He looked past them as Vivienne approached.

"Here we are," the vixen said, setting a dusty, boxy old radio onto the table beside the laptop. She unwound the cord and plugged it into the nearby wall. The radio itself looked like something out of a Cold War spy movie, all dials and gauges and a horizontal line of numbers running through the center with a faded orange indicator stuck dead center. With the flick of a switch hidden around the back, a light came to life within it, illuminating the dials and number line.

"Thank you, Vivienne." Jack glanced at his phone again and began adjusting the dials. All that reached their ears was static, most of it low-pitched, some more buzzy, then some that sounded like submarine sound effects. "Two minutes," Jack said, reading another text. He finally looked to be zeroing in on a station.

"Remind me again why MI6, one of the biggest and best-funded security organizations in the world, would need to relay super top-secret orders over an old radio set in my mother's kitchen?" Nick asked.

"Well," Jack said, turning to look at him, "for one, this can't be tracked as easily as modern electronic means. And second, each broadcast is specific to the agent that is receiving orders. No one else can break the code but me, because only _I_ know the key." He smirked, "Sometimes the old ways are best." He shared a wink with Vivienne, then turned back to the radio set.

A few seconds later, a female voice began listing what sounded like a random jumble of numbers. "Six…Seven…Nine. Six…Seven…Nine. Six…Seven…Nine." It repeated. The effect was rather eerie. This went on for two minutes until the pattern suddenly shifted. Jack's pen poised over a pad of paper he'd procured while the initial numbers had been repeating.

"Two…One…Seven. Two…One…Seven," It said, "Five…five…five."

Nick noticed Jack write "15" in the corner of the paper.

"Four…Seven…Zero…Eight…Two. Four…Zero…Seven…Eight…Two…" The strange voice rattled off a vast jumble of numbers, all in five-digit pairs. This went on for several minutes, the sound of Jack's pen accompanying the numerical dictations. The numbers suddenly stopped, leaving the room filled with the sound of background static. Jack gazed at his notes, frowning. He turned the radio set off.

"That can't be right," He said, scratching behind an ear.

"What about it?" Judy asked.

Following a long silence, laughter bubbled out of the hare, as if he suddenly understood the punchline of a joke long-passed. " _That_ explains all the activity. Well then, how utterly _convenient_." He turned to Vivienne. "May I see the briefcase you picked up this morning?"

 _Briefcase?_ Nick wondered.

The vixen narrowed her eyes. "What's this all about, Jack?"

"Nothing harmful, I swear by the stripes on my ears," he said, showing his palms, "It's just that we can help each other."

Vivienne reluctantly disappeared again, returning a short time later with what appeared to be a black, medium-sized, hard-shelled briefcase.

"Apparently," Jack said, pushing the radio further back on the table to make room for the case, "the CIA has its knickers in a bunch over some missing files. As far as I can work out, they think Mr. White has them. I've just been assigned to find such files before they do."

"And you think those files are in this case?' Judy asked, eyes widening.

Jack shared a glance with Vivienne, then returned his gaze to Judy's. "I'm certain."

The vixen deposited the case onto the table and opened it. When she stepped back, it revealed a stockpile of newspaper articles, photographs of fifty or more mammals, varying from mugshots to military photos to candid shots, classified files and documents, some with more blacked out than others, and two rolls of motion-picture film.

"That is one big pile of paper," Nick said after a whistle.

Wordlessly, Bogo's immense forearm passed between Judy and Nick, his hand selecting a single military portrait from the pile. It was another cape buffalo, from the glimpse Nick managed to snatch.

"This is my brother," Bogo stated. His face bore no expression, his eyes stared through the photograph to some place much farther away.

"Brother?' Nick asked.

"Elbe," Bogo muttered. "He disappeared thirty two years ago."

Just then, a military portrait caught Nick's eye that he hadn't noticed before. He gingerly picked it from the pile, eyes wide. "What the fuck?"

"What is it?" Judy asked, leaning to get a better look.

"Conacher."

"Conacher?" Bogo asked, "The one from the morgue?"

"Th...the father, yes," Nick said. The picture in his hand was, indeed, a much younger Kenneth Conacher. The pronghorn was posed in a classic military portrait, dressed to the nines and looking smart in front of a flag of Animalia, the country in which Zootopia resided. His eyes were far less sunken, face much less gaunt. The corners of his mouth curled upwards in a stern smile.

"The one that…?" Judy's inquiry faded as Nick nodded.

"Why's he in this case?" Nick stared at the photo, dark memories of the pronghorn's last moments flashing through his mind.

"What is this?" Bogo rumbled, turning to Jack.

The hare looked bewildered himself. He rummaged through the contents of the splayed case, pausing every now and then on a portrait or candid shot. "I have no idea."

"What are these?" Judy picked up two small manila folders that had been exposed through Jack's sorting, each labeled with the two pictured mammal's names. In doing so, she exposed another folder with the words "Classified: Atwater Excursion" printed across the front.

"That looks promising," Jack said, retrieving it from the stack. Bogo opened the file bearing his brother's name.

As they delved into their reading, Nick grabbed a pile of pictures and started flipping through them. Many of the soldiers appearing in portrait photos were also present in these. Many Nick looked over had nothing to do with military operations whatsoever; one showed a tiger reading on a park bench, another displayed a bear and a mountain goat strolling down a crowded beach in Hawai'ian shirts and bathing suits. A wolf in the middle of a soccer game. A panther eating dinner with what seemed to be his family. Two koalas smoking in porch rocking chairs. A moose talking into a primitive, boxy cell phone. None of them knew they were being photo-stalked.

The question was why. Why were these animals in particular being followed with a camera? Why was it deemed necessary to document moments in their daily lives? What did they do warrant the constant monitoring? Nick sighed, about to resign himself to drift in the sea of confusion brought about by the contents of the case. That was before he moved a military portrait of an armadillo out of the way. His ears focused forward with his eyes as he straightened. Pictured was a body of a child.

A reptilian child.

The young monitor was twisted in agony, long neck curving towards its back, clawed hands clutching at something unseen, eyes distant and dead. He wore only pants, faded, torn denim jeans that were probably hand-me-downs at least two generations old. His scaled hide bore horizontal white stripes across his back, the large spaces in between varying shades of black. Due to the shape of his wounds, it was obvious he had been shot in the back. His body was outlined in tall grasses.

The next picture was of an old female monitor, a dead infant clutched in her lifeless arms. Another showed an elderly male and two adult monitors that looked to be Nick's age sprawled across the front porch of a charred building. It was evident from the way they laid that the two able-bodied males were carrying the elder. The next detailed roiling flames consuming multiple structures, all of which appeared to be dilapidated even before burning, like a slum in the countryside. Photo after photo revealed ever more death and destruction. He happened to flip one over.

 _J. Wilde, Atwater, 1984_.

Nick stared at the hand-written words. It wasn't possible. This could not be happening. Perhaps it was coincidence? No, the handwriting matched the handfuls of notes and dairy entries he'd stumbled upon in his youth. This J. Wilde had to be the only animal he knew who bore that name: his father.

"Nick?" Judy's tentative voice brought him from the heat of his near-panicked state to the coolness of his mother's kitchen table once again. "What's wrong?"

"These…these pictures. Something horrible happened." He set the photograph down, hiding the name from Judy.

"My god," she said under her breath as she gave the arrayed photos a look over.

A subtle motion drew Nick's attention, and he followed his eyes to Jack. He wore a horrified expression on his face. His hands trembled as he slowly closed the file folder, his pupils darting across the tile floor.

"Th-they killed them all," he said, voice just above a whisper. "I've never seen anything like it…I had no idea…"

A frustrated huff from Bogo sent a puff of wind through all of their fur. "Elbe too. They killed him. I…remember him trying to tell me something on the phone…" He set the file back onto the pile with unsteady hands. "That was the last time I heard from him. He went missing after that."

"But why?" Nick asked.

Jack broke the silence. "Because he was going to tell the truth…just like Mr. White. _That's_ why the CIA is in such a tiddle! They think he's going to reveal all of it!"

They collectively took a breath as the truth hit.

"What the hell is on these film spools then?" Nick asked.

"More ghastly details, I'd imagine," Jack said with a grimace, picking one up. "Do we have a projector?"

Vivienne, who'd been silent the whole time, spoke up. "I have one or two old ones…what will those fit?"

"Let me see that," Judy said, and Jack handed her the roll. "Looks like a JB United 8 millimeter projector is your best bet."

"…Thought so," Vivienne choked out. "I'll be back."

"So, remind me what this Atwater place is?" Nick asked.

"The file _says_ it was a government-sanctioned use of force to evict stubborn residents to put the Atwater power plant and pump station in place. Things obviously turned out very differently for some reason," Jack said.

"Hmm."

The spent the rest of the time in silence until Vivienne returned with a couple of beat-up looking cases. She set them on the floor and the two rabbits jumped in to help her set it up. "Thank you, dears," she said when it was standing. She plugged it into the nearest wall socket. "I hope the bulb isn't burned out after all these years." She flicked a switch, and the mechanism whirred to life.

"How about we start with this one?" Judy said, holding up the spool labelled "#1."

"Seems appropriate," Vivienne said, installing the roll. As she did that, Jack turned off the lights while Bogo closed any nearby shutters, making the room as dark as possible.

They adjusted it until it pointed at a bare wall across the room. The jittering images coalesced, forming into a grainy, grey screen with the word "Classified" printed in the middle. The footage that followed was colored, but it was clearly very early 80's camera technology. It ran smoothly enough, but transitioned between scenes every three to eight seconds, remaining just long enough to understand the messages.

It turned out to be a narrative of betrayal. The first minute and a half or so consisted of mammals in military gear and business suits talking with a group of large lizards. The reptiles were not wealthy, most were partially clothed, some had guns but most weapons were primitive bladed tools used for farming. The images showed the argument heat up, and the cameraman didn't have the steadiest hand. Nick came to realize this was because the footage was shot at a distance, somewhere above and to the left of the mammals, the monitors occupying the left side of the screen. Another transition, and the reptiles were being herded sternly, but not forcefully. The camera panned to the left to reveal a village, a hodgepodge of huts and wooden buildings and trailers. Other lizards stood among the buildings, watching the scene unfold. Some observed from windows.

All at once, the camera transitioned back to the group of reptiles being herded. Something had gone awry: there was shoving and lashing out from both sides, most of the reptiles pressing back towards their village, defensively holding soldiers at arm's length. That's when the first shots were fired. They first appeared as quick, light plumes from the magazines and barrels of the soldiers' rifles. These were answered by small mists of crimson, two or three reptiles falling out of sight, and the massed, panicked rush of bodies towards sanctuary.

Nick started as he felt a paw on his arm. He looked down to find Judy staring wide-eyed at the images, pulling close to him, wrapping both paws around his arm. "Oh god…" She breathed.

Gazing back at the light wall, Nick was met with scenes of devastation. Automatic weapons were now being used on the reptiles, a couple of which had stopped to fire back at the overpowering military force with their bolt-action rifles. They fell almost immediately, only a couple managed to get even a shot off. Hand grenades were tossed. Bodies were torn to shreds. Images of Judy's horrific state came flooding back to Nick: suddenly _she_ was down there, lying in the grass in a pool of her own blood, limbs missing, helpless, dying. Their terrified screams couldn't be heard over the silent footage, the clattering of the projector filling in for the machinegun fire.

Nick's breath caught as a tank rolled into view. "No…no, no no no, they were planning this from the beginning," he said, "they wouldn't bring a tank for anything peaceful or involving negotiations…" he trailed off as a stream of flames erupted from a nozzle beside the tank's main cannon. It torched a small group of monitors, their bodies writhing and flailing in unimaginable pain, the throes of death. The buildings behind them caught. Women and children ran through the streets. No one escaped, no one was spared.

The wall suddenly went dark, and the sputtering projector clattered to a halt. The silence was deafening. Nobody breathed. Judy's grip on his arm had increased exponentially, as had his sense of dread.

"Bloody Nora," Bogo said under his breath.

"Nick that's…that's horrible. How could something like that happen? How…have we not heard about this?" Judy's voice was trembling.

"We've all been purposefully kept in the dark," Jack muttered, "As far as I know, we have no record of this over at MI6. We've learned to live in harmony with reptilians over there…we didn't think anything like this would be going on, even in the last three hundred years."

The following silence was heavy, only broken by the odd sniff.

"There's still one more roll." Bogo said, enthusiasm non-existent in his statement.

"Dammit." Jack brought the spool labelled "#2" to Vivienne as she switched them out.

This time the footage was taken from a slightly different vantage point. The far edge of the village was on the right, indicating the cameraman had moved significantly further to the left of the first shot.

There were around thirty or so reptiles lined up on their knees, facing directly away from the camera, six soldiers with machineguns standing behind them in a line of their own. The camera zoomed in as a pig officer raised his hoof, then dropped it. The gunners unleashed a storm of bullets, sweeping from side to side until the bodies had all fallen slack and stopped twitching. More than a few were women. Seven were children.

The camera shuddered and zoomed out just as numerous plumes of dirt appeared immediately in front of it. The footage tumbled between sky and dirt wildly, finally coming to rest on its side. Paws tinged with reddish-orange fur grappled the camera around the lens and lifted it off the ground. Next it showed a fox's face. The fox bore an uncanny resemblance to Nick, and seemed rather terrified. He looked to be checking over the camera while keeping his head on a swivel, looking out into the distance before refocusing on the ground. He was crawling, the sky was behind him. The footage ended when a hippo and a grizzly bear soldier appeared in the background, taking hold of the fox by his shoulders and sending the camera into a tumble again.

"Wow," Nick said, running his hands down the back of his neck, "This is definitely a cover-up. Holy shit."

Bogo opened the shutters again, revealing Nick's mother sitting on the floor, hand on her chest and an expression of morbid realization on her face.

"Mom?" Nick asked standing, disregarding the pain of his knife wound. "You alright?"

The vixen's eyes met his. "Nicolas."

He sat down beside her, taking one of her paws in his own. "What's the matter?" She was trembling.

A hard swallow racked her frame before she spoke. "I'm afraid I've been…dishonest with you about certain subjects." She met eyes with him again. "Please understand it was for your own protection."

"Of course," he said, nodding, suspecting he already knew what this was about.

"I've always told you that your father died in a car crash on the day you were born, yes?"

"Mmhmm."

She gave the floor a hard look. "That's a load of shit."

A single chuckle escaped Nick. "I'm beginning to suspect that." His smile faded as she put her other paw over his.

"Nicolas, your father was there when you were born. He even got to hold you." Tears were welling up in her eyes as she relived the memory. "Then he was taken away."

"So…that means he's still out there?"

She nodded. "He's been watching you grow up, Nicolas. He wishes more than anything that he could be there for you, but it's too dangerous for him to do so. And now I know why."

"Because he's the bloody cameraman." Jack suddenly said. "My god… _he_ stole the files!"

Vivienne nodded. "I knew he'd been compromised somehow, but he wouldn't tell me either. He's kept it secret for thirty two years. If he'd told any of us, we'd all end up like your poor brother, Bogo."

The chief snorted. "Sorry to burst the bubble…but now that we've seen all this, that's _exactly_ what's on the menu for us. If they find out about what we saw here, we're all dead."

"I think he wanted us to understand Mr. White's motivation," Jack said. "I see it now…Mr. White doesn't want to destroy Zootopia, or even Animalia; he wants it to destroy itself. He's relying on the reactions of the citizens. If the government responds to his threats the wrong way…that'll spread suspicion like a disease. People will know they're covering something up." He put his paws on his hips. "He's presented your government with quite a conundrum, I'm afraid."

"Nick," Judy said. He turned to face her. She held a photograph in her paw.

He stood and went to her to peer at the photo. It was brand new, and it showed a street corner in Zootopia. It looked like the photographer was in another building across the street, angling the camera at a downward angle, capturing the fire hydrant outside of the target building, the apparatus framed by the rolling steel doors that made up the front. "What is this?" He asked.

She flipped the photo over.

 _Get the bastard. 9907-35 Perth Street, Downtown._

 _-J. Wilde_

"I think we just found Mr. White," Judy said.

Jack looked as though he was about to respond, but he froze, looking up at the ceiling. The others followed suit, and soon a low thumping rumble made its presence known. It filled Nick with dread.

Helicopters.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14: Checkpoint

"Well that was fast."

Nick glanced at the hare, whose eyes were closed. "Fast? Really? That's as close to instantaneous as the military gets!"

"Exactly," Jack said, "The orders probably came through right after Mr. White's little rant. They're definitely Animalian…Apaches by the sound of it. Reckon four, possibly five." He turned and locked eyes with Nick. "If your government wanted to avoid stirring up hysteria, this is the wrong way to go about it."

"No kidding," Judy said.

All eyes turned to a window on the far wall that looked out onto the street. There, an armored vehicle rumbled past, followed by two more.

"Oh dear," Vivienne said.

"Well driving anywhere's stuffed." Bogo threw his hands up in frustration.

"Actually, sir," Jack said, holding up a finger, "you may have an advantage here. It'd be bending the rules a bit, but you could run blues-and-twos to the station…perhaps quietly collect a small SWAT squadron?"

Bogo considered it. "That _could_ work. I'm just worried about being caught in bureaucratic nonsense as soon as I arrive."

"Sir!" Nick said, straightening much too fast for his wounds. "We could relay the info and orders through Clawhauser; you won't even have to be there." Judy pointed at Nick for emphasis.

"But there's still the problem of getting to downtown without using the roads," Vivienne said, "walking would take much too long, and I'm sure the public transport systems will be crawling with animals we don't want to get involved with."

"The air is out. I have _some_ liberties, but I can't just charter a helicopter to land in the middle of the city." Jack shrugged.

"Regardless, the longer we stand here and talk, the smaller our chances of finding Mr. White before something big happens," Judy said. "We might as well see if the roads are _actually_ not the best option."

"Carrots has the right idea," Nick said. "Ma, can I use your phone?"

"Of course," she said, retrieving it from a pocket, "But what for, dear?"

"I'll see what Finnick's view of all this is, and I'll see if Zoogle maps is picking up any traffic."

"In that case, I'll get on with Clawhauser and get him the info," Bogo said, reaching for his own device.

"Begging your pardon, sir," Jack said, "it may be best to use my phone. Yours may be being monitored." Nick looked up from his screen just as Jack and Bogo came to the realization that a cape buffalo would have rather a hard time using a phone meant for a rabbit.

"…You dial it. Put it on speaker," Bogo ordered after an awkward pause.

 _Hey big guy, Nick here, how's traffic looking on your end?_ Nick typed.

 _Dafuq you been man?_

 _Phone got ruined…_

 _Shit, sucks. Traffic is normal, why?_

Nick raised an eyebrow; perhaps the military hadn't made it to downtown yet. _Too much to explain, military all over, bad shit. Find us at this address: 9907-35 Perth Street, Downtown._

 _I gotchu._

 _Thanks once again._

Nick handed the device back to his mother. "Thanks,"

"No problem, dear."

Nick caught a small smile from Judy, and he smirked at her with narrowed eyes. She was so damn cute.

"…this needs to be done quietly, Clawhauser. Can I count on you to do that?" Bogo was saying into Jack's comparatively miniscule phone.

"Affirmative, Chief," Clawhauser's tenor voice rang over the speaker.

"Good, send them as soon as they're ready. Bogo out." The buffalo handed the device back to Jack, who ended the call.

"Well now," said the hare, "I'm afraid this is where things get a little complicated."

"How so?" Bogo asked.

"My assignment was to make sure Mr. White ends up dead." He glanced up to the cape buffalo and shrugged. "He's been underestimated before, that's how officers and other personnel die. I'm obligated to inform you that I have legal jurisdiction granted by my country's government to carry out this killing, though, I know that goes against your code of ethics. It also requires your assistance in the legal matters."

Bogo stared down at the hare, hands on his hips. After a tense fifteen seconds, the chief's eyes slid closed, and he heaved a slow sigh. "Fine. He's screwing up my city. End him, and I can make it sound like an accident."

"Thank you sir. In that case," he said, turning to Vivienne, "we need armament. I don't have nearly enough in my small boot to take him down."

Nick frowned. He'd only just met this rabbit, but he kept talking to his mother like they were old friends…perhaps she was keeping more from him than the true whereabouts of his father.

Vivienne huffed, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes. "I _was_ meaning to keep that a secret for a bit longer, especially seeing as we're standing in front of _three bloody_ police officers."

"Mrs. Wilde, if you're worried about someone coming after you, just know that, in order to arrest and/ or convict you, we would need probable cause, a warrant, or quite a lot of evidence," Bogo said. "Whatever you're worried about shouldn't be a problem."

Vivienne wore a bored expression with pursed lips. She wordlessly opened a random drawer in the kitchen and clicked something within. Suddenly, the opposite wall – the one on which they had watched the horrific projector footage – began to move. Unseen seams broke and whole panels folded outwards like a barn door. Firearms and bladed weapons lined the walls of the room within as well as the doors, like a refrigerator with shotguns in the condiments shelves. The whole space was illuminated by a dull blue light. The furthest wall of the room was stacked full of ammunition boxes.

"Mother," Nick said, eyes wide, mouth agape, "perhaps, as a child, instead of warning me about the knives in that particular drawer, you could have told me that I _might_ hit the switch that opened a freaking wall with enough weapons behind it to arm all of _Canada_."

The vixen shrugged and strode into the new room. "Would you have believed me?"

"Nope, 'cause I certainly don't right now." He heard Jack chuckle, and felt the hare playfully jab him with an elbow as he walked past, following his mother.

"How…did you get all these?" Judy asked, eyes huge.

"I certainly didn't _buy_ them, if that's what you mean," Vivienne said, inspecting a handgun.

"Ah."

"I…uh…wow," Bogo stuttered, "I was not expecting that."

Jack shrugged as he adjusted a shoulder holster. "There's a surprising amount that goes on that I'd wager you don't hear about. This is just a peak." He slid a pistol into the holster.

"He's not the only one that doesn't hear about much," Nick said. He looked at his mother with purposely widened eyes.

Her ears flattened slightly. "I'm sorry once again, Nicolas. I didn't want you to be sucked into this life, but it just seemed destined to happen."

"I wonder if _my_ parents do anything like this…" Judy muttered. After a moment of consideration, she shook her head. "Naw, I just can't see it."

"To be fair, neither could I, but it just seems right somehow," Nick said, raising an eyebrow.

"Well? Are you two just going to stand there, or are you going to arm up?" Jack asked as he picked a small assault rifle off the wall.

"Do we have a choice?" Judy asked, stepping forward.

"Not if you want to live."

"In that case, I'll – Mother…what the fuck is that?" Nick asked.

Vivienne turned to glance at the target of her son's pointed finger. "That'd be an RPG, dear."

"Oh. Okay. Cool. Just making sure. Where the hell did you…you know what? Never mind." Nick shook his hands in front of himself and stepped forward. He selected a handgun and a shotgun for himself, sliding the pistol into a belt holster.

"Um," Judy said in a small voice, "do you have anything else…rabbit-sized?"

Jack froze, then took the pistol out of his shoulder holster and handed it to her, grip-first. "I've got one in the car," he said with a wink.

"Oh, thanks," she said, a bit too enamored for Nick's liking. She took and assembled the subsequent belt, holster, and loaded magazines.

"So…how dangerous is this Mr. White?" Bogo asked, "You seem to be arming for some kind of force on force encounter."

"Nobody knows very much about him," Jack said, "but he's got goons in loads, so there will be some kind of…skirmish, I imagine."

"And Daniel bloody Fey's working for him," Vivienne added.

"Fey too?"

"Aye, Danny Fey." Vivienne released the bolt on a submachinegun. "Bagsy, he's mine."

"Yes ma'am."

…

Police vehicles with lights blaring, military personnel cordoning off streets around HQ vans and trucks, scared, worried faces of the mammals of the city, cell phones, laptops, and internet pages buzzing with thoughts and fears; Mr. White was relishing the tumult. His monitor was crisscrossed with different camera angles, filled to the brim with incoming information. He smiled to himself; Zootopia would soon tear itself apart. He clapped once as a small group of animals came into view, approaching one of the squadrons of heavily armed military, some with arms out to their sides in an inquisitive manner.

A low thumping drew his attention away. He turned to peer behind him and to the left. One of the hostages was banging on the glass to the holding chamber, fixing him with a determined stare. A lion, mane once lush, suit once clean-pressed and spotless. Former mayor Lionheart.

Mr. White squinted at the lion. What could this infernal creature want?

Lionheart pointed to one of the other captives with the same look of determination, a wordless exchange of responsibility. His outstretched claw indicated a slender kudu that lay curled against the corner of the bullet-proof glass and the inside wall. His arm was wrapped in a shirt, which obviously belonged to an orynx that sat beside him. He wasn't doing well; sweat dripped from his ears and snout, and he shivered and convulsed at random. The orynx appeared quite worried for his partner. This was one of the mammals Fey had reported was hurt in the scuffle while being kidnapped.

Mr. White almost reached to call for a dose of penicillin to be dropped into the room. Almost. He remembered his years of suffering, lying deformed, helpless, unable to receive the benefits of modern medicine. Instead, he was forced to bear his pain and take on the ineffective natural remedies his shaman could administer. The mammals would offer no help. They never did.

He simply hissed and turned away again. Just in time too; one of the screens showed two vehicles go past. One was Chief Bogo's police cruiser with the cape buffalo himself at the wheel. The second was a smaller sedan driven by a familiar vixen. But it was who was in the passenger seat that caught his attention: a hare with grey fur and black stripes on his ears and face. He'd been warned about this rabbit before. Looked as though they'd finally meet.

He grinned to himself and stood. "Got to get dressed up now," he muttered.

…

"Hey guys, I'm not sure if you know this, but traffic is my favorite thing in the entire world." Nick's statement generated some chuckles. The atmosphere still hung with apprehension though.

Judy smiled, then stared out the window again. The traffic had started over two hours ago, and they'd already gone through three different checkpoints on their way to downtown. Cars stretched for miles in all directions. On and off-ramps alike were packed, the freeways themselves didn't move. Even public transit had crawled to a standstill. The military was tirelessly screening every mammal they could, looking for any leads or connection to Mr. White. Or so she thought, anyway.

"Good afternoon ma'am," said a warthog soldier through Vivienne's open window.

"Afternoon to you too, dear," the vixen replied, cheerful and kind despite the growing tension.

"What business do you have in downtown today?"

"We're actually following Chief Bogo, there," she said, pointing to Bogo's cruiser, which had stopped about fifty feet up ahead. "We had some business to attend to that was set before all this terrible nonsense happened, and we were just looking to conclude our matters and all that."

"Alright. May I see your identifications please? Everyone."

Judy froze. This was the first time any of the checkpoints had required I.D. Neither she nor Nick had theirs.

Vivienne handed her and Jack's cards over to the warthog, who frowned. "And what about those two in the back?"

"Ah," Vivienne said, scratching behind an ear, "Spot of bother with those two, I'm afraid. They're with the ZPD, but through a rather complicated series of events, they don't have their identification on them. You could probably check their names with the police Chief."

"Hmm." The warthog's eyes flicked between the cards and the two mammals in the front seats. He handed them back to Vivienne, then took a step over to Judy's window. He tapped lightly on the glass. Judy rolled it down. "Names, please."

"Judy Hopps."

"Nick Wilde."

There was a long pause. The warthog narrowed his eyes. "Wait a second, I've seen you two before. 'The New Kiss of Life,' right? In front of the ZPD station?"

Judy blinked. "Y-yea, that's us."

"Psh, well then, no identification needed, I already know who you are. Carry on." He stepped back from the car to wave them past.

"Thank you," Vivienne said, then rolled up her window. Judy couldn't help but smirk; just under her seat was her gun belt, and there were quite a few more firearms in the trunk. Cheeky.

From there, the traffic thankfully lightened. The sun had set, and the lights of the city were coming alive. The streets were eerily empty, however. Only the occasional scurrying mammal or piece of windblown trash would dart across the road or between buildings. Stores and businesses remained open but vacant, their employees doing menial tasks or simply sitting and waiting for their shift to end or for their superiors to release them.

"Wow," Judy whispered, "They've really cracked down haven't they?"

"Indeed," Jack said, then turned to Vivienne. "Why's he done that?"

"I don't know," the vixen said, bringing the car to a halt. Judy strained to see out the front window, but couldn't get a good line of sight. After a short pause, Vivienne pulled the car forward and Jack rolled his window down. "Anything wrong?"

"I've just been radioed. Apparently the commander who's been sent in with all these troops needs to meet with me urgently," came the annoyed tone of Chief Bogo.

"Ah…" Jack ran his hands over his ears, as if searching for the right words. "I suppose we can't disappoint him then."

" _Her_ , actually."

"Right, yes, of course. Just…be on the lookout for any suspicious types. You'll have to come up with a good alibi since you haven't been there all day."

Bogo huffed. "Don't worry about me. I'll see that SWAT is sent as soon as possible if they aren't on their way already."

"Thank you, sir," Jack said with a nod.

"Take care Hopps, Wilde," Bogo said, saluting with his arm, which hung out of his window.

"We will, sir," Nick said, rolling his own down. "You too."

With that, Bogo's cruiser took off ahead of them, flashing blues-and-twos and running code, turning left on the next street.

"Well," Vivienne said as the sirens faded into the distance, "looks like it's just us then."

"Yup," Judy said, feeling even more uneasy.

It took less than five minutes to reach their destination. It was a warehouse, one of the few that weren't built by the water, meant for immediate storage and transfer from within the city, a place where local businesses and producers could store products for use in Zootopia. This warehouse, all the way to the right in a cluster of three, looked just like any other: concrete, geometric, and imposing. Three metal rolling doors adorned the front, each big enough for a semi-trailer to fit through.

The four mammals exited the car and silently armed themselves, checking over their weapons. It suddenly hit Judy how outrageous this whole plan was. They didn't know how many mammals were working for Mr. White. Just dealing with a single fossa was bad enough, he could have a whole army in there!

But then she saw Nick. He was smiling at her, eyelids heavy, leaning on the rear wing of the car with one paw. She smiled back at him. Then she frowned. "You sure you want to do this Nick? You're hurt."

"I'll be fine, Carrots. I've got you to protect me after all." His wink sent a crackle of emotions through her, and it took all the will she had to keep her composure.

"Alright, we ready for this?" Jack asked, holstering his pistol.

"As much as one can be," Nick said.

"I'm with Magnum P.I," Judy said, stifling a giggle. The combination of Hawai'ian shirt and firearms was quite a dichotomy.

"Steady now," Jack said, unamused, "we don't know what we'll find in there, but if I can guarantee you anything, it's that he's ready for us. He could have thirty or fifty guys armed to the teeth, or five or six of his best. Either way, stay low, stick close, remember your officer training, and listen for any instructions I give."

"Lead on," Vivienne said. She was now clad in all black, and moved silently.

They approached one of the metal doors, but before they could try and hack into the number box beside it, the damn thing opened.

"Okay," Judy breathed, "Here we go."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15: Crimson and White

Inside was well-lit and sparsely dotted with older crates filled with random materials ranging from old motorcycles to computer parts to used mattresses. It was immaculate. The concrete floors shone dully, no scuffs or blood trails to behold. Arranged as they were, the various boxes and carts seemed frozen in time, as if the workforce employed to move them vanished in a flash, leaving behind a veritable museum. There was no pattern to the dispersal, no neat stacks of materials, no central canyon-like pathway through it all. Catwalks crisscrossed overhead and heavy lifting machinery rested in their tracks on the ceiling. The whole of it was blanketed in a deep silence. Only the low humming of fluorescent lights above seemed to permeate the stillness.

"Well?" Nick whispered, "What happens now?"

Neither Jack nor Vivienne seemed to hear him. Each stood stone still, ears flexing, searching with their eyes for any signs of life or movements. Nick met eyes with Judy for a moment.

 _Clatter-clatter-clatter-clatter-boom!_

Judy nearly shouted out in surprise as the door behind her suddenly rolled shut, the thundering crash violently breaking the silent tension they had all been swimming in. The other three looked terrified as well, but let out hissing laughs nonetheless. Judy joined them, then gave the door one last glance, just to be sure.

"Alright, alright, quiet now," Jack said softly. He pointed to a large hatch on the floor on the far side of the warehouse, just barely visible at this distance. "That looks promising. Stick to the shadows, and move quietly. You two keep me in sight. Viv, you know what to do."

The vixen winked, pulling a black, hooded scarf over her face. The four of them made their way forward, creeping through the boxes and keeping alert. Vivienne almost immediately disappeared, with no noise whatsoever. More than once they froze completely, waiting. Then they would continue. It was a trial for Judy, maintaining this level of silence for this long, but it must have been agony for Nick. She watched as he bared his teeth on occasion, breathing through his mouth so he could gulp more oxygen with less noise.

The stillness was torn asunder by the crack of a gunshot. Every muscle in Judy's body tensed, and she ducked low behind a large crate filled with what smelled like rubber. There was a shout of surprise from up ahead, followed by another gunshot, this time much larger, and much louder. She could feel the explosion in her chest.

"It's Fey!" Jack shouted, taking his assault rifle in hand. He leaned his back against a crate and craned his neck backwards to peak over the edge of it. "He's in the shadows, on the catwalks," he said, locking eyes with Judy.

Nick slumped up against the box beside her. "Fancy seeing you here, Fluff."

She punched him, "Nick!"

"Is this not a good time?" He asked, rubbing his arm, "Should I call back later?"

She rolled her eyes and turned back just as Jack made to fire over the lip of the crate. The instant he moved, another deafening shot rang out, and the hare withdrew, a cry of pain escaping him. Blood trickled down from a neat hole that had been punched through his right ear. He blinked in shock, body already clenching against the eye watering pain Judy knew he must be suffering through. She winced at the thought of it.

Two more shots were fired from behind them and above. There was movement in the shadows of the catwalks overhead. Judy squinted. It was Vivienne.

The vixen pointed to herself, then ahead into the shadows. She then indicated the other three and made a sweeping motion with her arm, signaling them to move forward while she provided covering fire. She fired twice more before another rifle round punched through a crate beside her, shards of wood riding the roaring sound waves of Fey's rifle.

Jack had regained his composure by this point, and he fired two short bursts. "Only move after he fires, but only for two or three seconds!" He shouted over Vivienne's gunfire.

So the three waited until the deer fired again. Once he did, they scrambled forward, sprinting for cover. This continued for what felt like an eternity. Jack would take potshots on occasion while moving forward. As they neared the hatch, Nick began blasting away at the areas the rifle shots came from, the large BB's from his shotgun clattering against the metal of the catwalks. Fey was constantly moving, as was Vivienne, like a deadly dance around the perimeter of the warehouse.

"The hatch!" Jack exclaimed after another thunderous rifle shot. He and Judy sprinted forward, Nick following behind, shotgun trained on the shadows above them. The two rabbits reached the locking wheel. It was reminiscent of a submarine hatch, just squarer and much, much larger. Judy planted her feet and turned as hard as she could.

Even with Jack's help, it wouldn't budge.

"Pull!" he shouted, face snarled with the effort. A strained growl escaped Judy. She pulled, and pulled, and –

Something smacked into her, hard. Sparks flew from the metal in front of her, and small, sharp shards of metal peppered her face. She was shoved away from the wheel, landing on her side.

"Judy!" Nick screamed, rushing to her side.

She blinked, dazed. Nothing seemed broken. "I'm okay, I'm okay," she breathed. Then she looked down at her prosthetic arm. Everything from the wrist down, the once beautifully crafted piece of mechanical engineering, was ruined. Mangled metal, rubber, and plastic hung limply, as if she'd been holding some kind of explosive that went off.

"Nick, covering fire!" Jack shouted, now turning the wheel. "That shot loosened it for us!"

Nick rose with a snarl on his face and fired three times into the shadows, the concussions deafening to Judy, being so close.

Amidst the scattered gunfire, there came a _clunk_ , and the hiss of a seal being broken as Jack heaved the door open. "In, now!"

Judy wasted no time and sprinted forward, closely followed by Nick, who fired twice more before descending the ladder after her. Finally, Jack joined them, pulling the hatch closed above them. It suddenly became very dark and very quiet. The sounds of gunfire were still present, just profoundly muffled.

They waited in the dark, panting, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the new conditions. Well, the rabbits did anyway.

"Huh," Nick said, "There's another ladder in here, on the opposite wall...and it's huge."

"Fascinating," Jack breathed, "I apologize in advance if I bleed on you." He swore.

"Carrots?" Nick asked, voice laced with apprehension.

"Yes?" she responded, looping her mechanical arm through a rung on their ladder.

"Remember what the back of Mr. Big's limo looked like when we were looking for Mr. Otterton?"

"Yea, why?"

"Okay good. Now imagine the entire other wall covered with claw marks…but each scratch is the size of Mr. Otterton himself."

A cold feeling seeped through Judy's body. "Are you serious?"

"How big is Mr. White?" Nick asked.

"We…don't know," Jack said, "the only photos of him in our records are from a distance when he was younger. His species normally get quite large compared to, say, Judy and I, but even the taller ones only rival wildebeest or deer for height."

"How…reassuring."

"Regardless, I'd enjoy it very much if we could perhaps make our way down to solid ground," Jack said, producing a small flashlight and holding it in his teeth.

The three descended the pipe-rung ladder for around fifty feet before their paws settled onto the cold concrete below. Before them stood a tall, rounded entryway to a tunnel that disappeared into darkness. They took a collective breath and started forward. Pipes and electrical lines of all sorts lined the sides, some of them huffing steam in small streams as the trio crept by them. Gas gauges hissed on ducts, and ventilation slits squinted at them from all sides. Yet the tunnel was big enough for two rhinos to pass each other and not be bothered for space.

"Bullocks," Jack muttered. He was swaying his flashlight across the floor as they walked. His light cone was picking up immense claw marks everywhere they went.

She heard Nick load more shells into his shotgun. They continued on in relative silence. The floor rose and fell with no particular pattern as the tunnel snaked further and further onwards. Soon, she lost all sense of direction and time.

"What's that up ahead?" Nick asked out of the blue.

"What do you see?" Judy asked.

"There's a red ambient light…like a heating lamp or something."

Soon, all three were close enough to see. Nick was correct: a large steel door stood before them, windows at different heights allowing streams of rich crimson light to bathe the exterior, heat emanating from behind it.

"Well then," Jack said, "I think we've arrived."

As if on cue, the door began hissing with pneumatics. It shuttered as it came loose from its frame, then rumbled away on a track to the left, disappearing into the wall of the tunnel.

"Don't fret…there's no need to knock," came a voice that struck cold shards of pure terror into Judy's heart. It was dark, and seemed to fill the hallway with its thunder. Her nose twitched nervously, every fiber of her being on edge.

Jack grumbled something to himself then started forward, drawing his pistol but keeping it pointed towards the floor as he walked. Judy followed, with Nick bringing up the rear. She took in the room with wide eyes. Patterned carpets, vast tapestries, a misshapen hunk of metal in the corner that used to be a car, all was bathed in a ruby-red glow cast by a myriad of light fixtures across the ceiling and walls. The air was heavy and warm, and smelled similar to the rainforest, only less sweet, with more than a noticeable hint of blood.

And sitting at a wooden desk in the exact center of the room was Mr. White. Judy drew in a breath as her eyes came to rest on him. He was an impressive specimen: scaled armor of some kind adorned his chest and shoulders, extending down his abnormally long arms. His clawed hands were splayed on the desk in front of him, an ornate but worn helmet sitting beside them. He wore a neutral expression, made all the more unnerving by his exceedingly pale hide and deep red eyes, accented only by tiny vertical pupils. It was as Jack had said earlier; from this angle, he appeared to be no bigger than most cheetahs.

" _Jaaack_ Savage…how lovely to finally make your acquaintance. And these two must be those hero cops…Nicolas Wilde and Judy Hopps." His guttural, hoarse voice was punctuated by ragged inhalations.

"Mr. White," Jack said, starting forward again. Judy and Nick followed. She drew her pistol and awkwardly held it in her left paw. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

The horrible eyes narrowed, and the skin along his snout pulled back to reveal his dagger-like teeth. " _Do_ I?"

"At the very least," Judy began, "You're under arrest for the kidnapping of forty-seven mammals, and the public execution of one tigress, as well as suspicion of consorting to murder former mayor Dawn Bellwether in her own cell."

There was a pause. The air seemed to oscillate with the chuckle that escaped Mr. White. " _Bellwether_ was meant to test the waters. If she could cause near-total social collapse by simply darting a few predators…what does that say about your society? Your apparent 'peace' between species? It doesn't bode well. I was hoping to glimpse the monstrous potential your city offered. You're all so damned high-sprung…holding your hate and prejudice in tight coils much too close to the surface."

The lizard moved for the first time, sliding a hand forward to peer down at them.

"I'm sure you _foxes_ have experienced this firsthand."

"I have, yes," Nick retorted, "but that doesn't give you the right to capture and murder bigots."

"What did those other mammals you kidnapped do to deserve it anyway?" Judy asked, anger rising in her.

Mr. White smirked. "I don't know…why don't you _ask_ them?" He turned sideways to them, sweeping a claw. Seeing the edge of something, Judy moved right with the other two.

"Lionheart?!" She gasped, "Bucky?! Pronk too?!" a large group of mammals of all shapes and sized were huddled in a small metal room with one clear wall facing them. Some of their faces brightened when they saw the officers, but contorted with fear immediately after..

"You monster!" Judy shouted.

"I am only a debt-collector, dear."

"They're all innocent! What debt do they owe you?"

"I suspect that you already know. Perhaps you viewed the contents of a certain briefcase this morning?"

Judy's eyes widened. "But…how did you…?"

"Fey." Jack grumbled. "He had his head goon keeping tabs on us."

"That, and greased palms," Mr. White rumbled. "You saw what happened to us…to me. I am merely…returning the _favor_. There were fifty mammals that raided my village. All local. They all stayed in Zootopia, as if they just couldn't leave their past deeds behind. Like Stockholm syndrome." He dug his claws into the wood on his desk and scraped backwards. "I will make them feel what I felt.. They will know my pain… _our_ pain. They will finally come to understand the loss of what they once held most precious: they're children."

Judy gasped, horror seizing her chest.

"You bastard," Nick growled.

"And _you_ ," Mr. White said, pointing a twisted, gnarled finger towards Nick, "I know all about your father. He was a great role-model. He taught me about so much; many things I've used to torment the both of you. It's because of _him_ that I have so many contacts. I really couldn't have done it without him."

"Nick no!" Judy said, putting what remained of her metal paw on his arm as he raised his shotgun.

"Such _haste_ for retaliation. Do you not feel the same forces that drive me? I have awaited this moment ever since you were born, Nicolas. Thirty-two years nearly to the day." His head tipped to the side, the metal on his long neck clinking. "Happy birthday," he cooed through a maniacal grin.

"At any rate, we're at a bit of a stalemate," Jack said, starting forward. "We won't leave until we've either arrested you, or killed you."

"Oh is _that_ how it is?" the monitor's voice was patronizing.

"Indeed."

"I'm saddened that you can't see my side of things." Mr. White's huge hands grasped the helmet on the desk beside him and slowly lifted it to place it on his head. It made him resemble some kind of Egyptian god, with panels that hung down the sides of his face.

"I've made my decision," Jack said, still approaching, "I can't let you carry on with this nonsense."

"Hmm. I expected more from all of you. Even after witnessing the horrid truth, you still mean to oppose me?"

Nick cocked his shotgun, muzzle poised to kill.

"I find your decision…disappointing."

His claws dug into the desk once again. The wood creaked and groaned as he put more and more weight onto his arms. Mr. White himself growled with effort. His shadow lengthened. His head and shoulders continued to rise as he straightened. Judy's breath left her body; he seemed to be standing and expanding for eternity. His horrible form towered over them, bent and misshapen, one shoulder higher than the other, permanently bending his spine forward. As a result, one tree-trunk-like arm nearly dragged on the floor. Even in his deformed state, he stood taller than Chief Bogo. A familiar heavy, metallic and tank-tread noise thundered through the room as an immense chain-like weapon unrolled and impacted the floor, rattling the walls and sending a cloud of dust up around Mr. White's clawed feet. His laughter vibrated through the space once again.

"Eyes!" Jack shouted. He suddenly darted and leapt onto the desk, bounding upwards and right in an arc, pistol aimed squarely at Mr. White's exposed face.

In a flash, Jack was gone, flung into the far wall to Judy's right by a swift backhanded swing. He shouted as the air was driven out of his lungs as he bounced, dropping to the ground. He stood, wavering, then took two steps towards them. Judy locked eyes with him, and he coughed, blood bursting forth from his mouth in a spray that coalesced into streams. He collapsed into a fetal position, convulsing twice before lying still.

Judy and Nick stared at Jack's motionless body in horror, then back at Mr. White. The immense lizard turned his bloodcurdling gaze back to them.

Nick wasted no time. He fired his shotgun at the monitor, the smoking spent shells landing all around Judy. Each blast impacted Mr. White's articulated armor, sending small clouds of what seemed to be dust or powder puffing into the air.

 _Boom! Kuh-chak, boom! Kuh-chak, boom!_

Nick's final blast echoed around the room, redoubling the ring already present in Judy's ears.

Mr. White sniffed, then tipped his head at them again, squinting. "Are you two quite finished?"

The shotgun clattered to the floor beside Judy. "We should've brought the RPG," Nick muttered to her.

Mr. White suddenly heaved his arm in an arc, and the snake-like weapon in his hands whistled through the air, uncoiling in a cacophony of metal and wind-noise. Judy barely had the wherewithal to dive out of the way, tackling Nick to the floor as the air above them was bludgeoned with the force of a charging rhino. Her world was filled with the simultaneous comfort of Nick's fur, and the terrible thunderclap of impact. The rumble echoed. The walls vibrated. Mr. White withdrew the horrid weapon, and the officers sprinted again.

"Nick!" Judy shouted. His response was cut short as the giant desk Mr. White once sat behind was shattered, splinters ejecting in all directions from the site of impact. A scream escaped her lips.

"We can't fight him!" Nick yelled, "We have to think of something!"

"But what can we use to – shit!" She shoved Nick, and they dived in opposite directions, the wood planks they stood on crushed into a tangled mass.

"He can't attack both of us at once!" Nick sprinted toward Mr. White, trying to flank him. Judy followed suit, scanning for a ledge she could jump off of to finish what Jack had attempted.

"Stupid boy," Mr. White sneered.

"Whoa!" Nick exclaimed as he ducked. Mr. White's tail swept over his head with a _whoosh_ , a club-like appendage attached to the end of it.

The lizard lifted his tail straight up and attempted to smash the fox beside him. Nick was quick enough to dodge the furious blows, however, and Mr. White roared in frustration. He turned his fury to Judy just as she made to jump for a small ledge in the wall, bringing his massive chain-whip around.

It passed so close that Judy felt her ears pop with the pressure wave. It slammed into the ground, leaving her unbalanced for her hop. She still managed to hit the ledge and spring off of it. Mr. White's eyes widened as the rabbit latched onto his snout, using her thighs to grip as she pulled back the slide on her pistol. But before she could fire, the monitor violently twisted his head. She gasped as his jaws snapped shut on her leg.

"JUDY!" Nick screamed from below.

Judy gritted her teeth and fired at Mr. White's neck and beneath the jaw. The pistol jumped in her grip, but her bullets seemed to have an impact. The monitor flinched with every explosion, though Judy couldn't imagine a gun of this small a caliber would actually do much damage to someone like Mr. White. But apparently it did something; his jaw clenched tighter around her leg, and he whipped his head back and forth.

Two or three jerks and she was falling free, her leg shredded, emitting small sparks the moment it separated. She tumbled to the ground, the air driven from her lungs. Mr. White spat and her leg clattered to the floor a few feet from her.

"Fucking rabbit!"

Something reddish darted from across the room, slamming into Judy as the chained weapon once again turned the floor into dust. She looked up to see Nick holding her tight as they slid to a stop.

"We can't do this!" He said, breathing hard, "We have to run!"

"But Nick, my leg –"

He didn't let her finish. He whisked her away once again as the shadow of death struck the floor with the force of a car collision. Nick kept up his momentum and headed straight for the door.

Mr. White roared with frustration at their escape.

"Catch ya' next time, rain check!" Nick responded. He swore as the giant steel door began rolling closed. They slipped through just in time, the soft _boom_ of the aperture reaching the end of its track echoing through the tunnel.

"Nicolas?" Came a familiar female voice.

"Mom?"

"Are you alright? Where's Jack?" The vixen stepped forward out of the shadows, one paw holding her shoulder.

"He got taken out – what happened to your arm?!"

"Fey and I had a scuffle. He got a few good hits in, as did I, but he got away." Judy noticed blood dripping down Vivienne's fingers and onto the floor.

"Shit. Jack took a nasty hit, he's down, still in the room –"

Nick was cut off as the door beside them began to open.

"Sweet cheese and crackers, run!" Judy shouted, renewing her grip on Nick's neck. He was carrying her very much like he did after the station bombing…

Apparently the door wasn't opening fast enough, for one of Mr. White's enormous hands wrapped around the frame and heaved it aside, bending the metal door as easily as a soda can. It made a horrible screeching noise and threw sparks from its tracks. The tunnel behind them was filled with his echoing laughter, the scraping and atonal ringing of his armor only adding to the effect.

A monstrous shape loomed in the darkness behind them. "Nick, dive right!" Judy shouted as pipes and grating overhead threw out a shower of dust and sparks. Nick heaved the two of them to the right of the path just in time to watch a column of steam explode downwards from the ceiling and the chain weapon carve out a wolf-sized divot in the floor. Mr. White flailed and swore as he was bathed in the heated water.

Two shots rang out. It was Vivienne, firing at the huge shape that she could see much better than Judy due to her night vision.

"It won't work, Mom, he's armored! Just run!" Nick exclaimed as he stood, Judy still in his arms. Vivienne swore, holstering her pistol and taking hold of her arm once again.

"NO!" Mr. White howled after them, then he began shouting in another language. It was very breathy and guttural, filled with consonants. "Minninnewah!" he shrieked, slamming the chain-whip to the floor. "Minninnewah! Micco!"

The ladder came into sight.

"Go! Go!" Nick said. Vivienne heaved herself up first. "Piggy-back!"

Judy shifted, wrapping her one good arm and her metal stumped appendage around Nick's neck as he started up the ladder. They were nearly to the top when Mr. White's mass slammed into the bottom of the wall. The hatch above them was open, light spilling down. Judy looked below into the gaping roaring maw of the monitor, laced with blood and teeth, powerful muscles beneath pink flesh. He would have no trouble swallowing all three of them.

Mr. White raced up after them, thrashing at the larger rungs on the opposite wall, his progress resembling a railway locomotive blasting through a tunnel that wasn't quite wide enough.

The three of them scrambled out of and away from the hatch just before the beast followed. He burst from the ground like some kind of sea monster, taking chunks of concrete and hatch frame with him. His claws cut deep grooves into the shiny floor of the warehouse as he heaved himself onto all fours.

"Aleshanee…Micco…Minninnewah…" he said between heavy breaths.

"Watch it, he's got a huge reach," Nick said, putting an arm out defensively in front of Vivienne.

Mr. White's eyes flared as he scanned them. Thick rivers of crimson were flowing from his ocular sockets, some of the scales on his face blistered and peeling from the steam blast. He rose to his full height with a roar, winding up for another strike with his ghastly weapon.

The box closest to Nick exploded, sending small bits of metal junk and splinters everywhere. "Fuck!" He screamed, "How do we get out of here?!"

"Follow me!" Vivienne said, dashing for a support strut for the catwalks.

"We have to climb _that_?!" Judy asked just before another box was bifurcated.

"Well it's this or we become spaghetti." Vivienne wasted no time and began deftly climbing, yelping whenever she used her injured arm. Judy gasped as the vixen's grip slipped in her own blood, but she hung on.

"Aauuugh!" Mr. White roared. Judy turned to see him burying his face in his hands, wiping at his eyes and turning his head to the ceiling. More blood was flowing from beneath his palms. Perhaps the steam did more damage that Judy originally thought. "Nina!" He wailed. "My children! My love! NO!" He charged the pillar.

"Hang on!" Judy shouted, shutting her eyes and bracing for impact.

"Whoa, shit!" Nick said as the pylon lurched beneath them, the rumble reverberating around the warehouse.

"You will not escape!" Mr. White wailed, reaching one immense clawed hand toward them.

"I beg to differ!" Nick hopped over the railing, in pursuit of Vivienne, back towards the way they came, where Fey had set up in the shadows earlier that evening.

"You will _not_ _escape_!" Mr. White repeated. With a strained bellow, he tore the metal pylon in half. Chunks of concrete and iron rebar rained down on him, but he seemed not to feel it. He then charged another pylon, following the mammals above him. This one broke as well.

Nick yelped as the catwalk bucked then gave way on one side. He managed to catch himself on a part of the railing, but this stopped his momentum and caused his body to swing back into the hanging debris. Judy's grip was jerked free, and she found herself falling.

All she could see was Mr. White's open jaws. An image of Jack's bloody and broken body flashed across her mind. She waited for the horrible impact with the concrete below, preparing for the inevitable. With any luck, she'd be knocked out when she landed, and she wouldn't have to suffer the terrible consequences afterwards.

But something latched onto her wrist, jolting her to a halt. She opened her eyes to see Nick's paw.

"I've gotcha Carrots," He said, "I'm here." He bared his teeth as he heaved her up onto an unbroken part of the catwalk beside them.

"Thanks Nick," She said, as she lay panting. Another thundering shriek from Mr. White brought her out of her stupor, and Nick lifted her onto his back again. Looking back, she saw that the giant monitor was scaling the debris, rapidly ascending towards them.

"Nicolas, this way!" Vivienne called from ahead, crouching on a crate. Nick followed, and they found a broken window that led onto the rooftops.

A cacophony of shattering glass and crumbling structure followed them outside. They landed just in time to see Mr. White's armored form burst through what was left of the wall after his chain whip sliced through it.

"Shit! Go! Go!" Nick shouted. They sprinted across the rooftop, slipping in the gravel as the monster behind them plowed through industrial air-conditioning units and exhaust pipes.

Suddenly, a flashing of red and blue caught their attention up ahead. Judy caught sight of a police cruiser turn towards them from a street up ahead, coming to join the rest of the lights. SWAT had arrived at last!

"Nick!"

"I see them! It's about time!"

A sinking feeling gripped her heart. "We can't just lead him right to them! He'll kill them!"

"They might have guns big enough!" Nick said. "They might!"

"We don't have much choice!" Vivienne exclaimed.

They slid to a halt as they came to the edge. The warehouse was a single story…but it was still a solid thirty foot drop. SWAT vans and police vehicles were dispersed below, their roofs and lights posing as the only cushions. There were no handholds to be seen on the wall. They all looked to each other, then back to the charging Mr. White, then back to each other.

"Aim for the roofs!" Vivienne said. They all jumped.

Nick landed hard enough to bang his teeth together and drive the air from his lungs. Judy was flung once again, and they both tumbled off the roof of a SWAT van and onto the hard asphalt below.

"Whoa! What the hell?!" One of the officers exclaimed. "Identify yourselves!"

Judy rolled onto her back, arching with pain. Her eyes widened. "No time! Run!" She began to crawl away before Nick snatched her up again. He was limping quite heavily as he ran.

The confused wolf was just far enough away from the van that he wasn't crushed as Mr. White's half-ton form flattened it. Multiple officers were thrown from the impact, some diving, some scrambling away from the _thing_ that had suddenly appeared.

"Open fire!" Bogo's familiar voice bellowed.

Gunshots erupted from behind the three, and they turned to witness officers being flung in all directions as the giant monitor's deformed body lashed out on all sides. The rain of bullets didn't seem to be affecting him; his tail smashed down on the hood of a cruiser, ruining it. His chain-whip flailed, sailing towards a cruiser behind which three officers were taking cover. The weapon cut through four armored SWAT officers on the way, two of which were rhinos, before nearly filleting the vehicle horizontally, slicing through the engine block like it was warm butter. The blood shower was sickening, the screams, horrifying. Those officers never stirred again. Open air seemed to suit his whip technique; he was in his element. The movements and slashes were a morbid dance. The chain-whip never touched the ground, instead making landfall against the buckling aluminum and steel of cars and SWAT vans and the tissue-paper bodies of Zootopia's finest. As a final show of strength, he heaved the crushed van at a group of officers crouching behind the doors of their patrol cars. The vehicle carcass tumbled through the air and landed with the horrible sounds of crushing metal and screaming mammals.

Then his blood-filled eyes locked onto the three of them. Judy had seen that look before, when the predators had been darted with Nighthowler serum. He was letting his rage govern him now. He was in an altered state of consciousness, madness taking control of his body. He barreled towards them on all fours, tail whipping madly about behind, chain weapon sparking on the asphalt, his tongue flicking in and out between blood-stained teeth.

"Holy fuck!" Nick squealed, turning to sprint away once again.

Parking lot turned into street. Plain, industrial buildings lined the road. The sound of heavy footfalls grew closer every second.

This was it.

Judy could tell almost immediately.

They weren't going to make it. Even someone in a car would have trouble outrunning the charging creature.

"Nick, I love you," Judy quickly said into his ear.

"And…I love you…Carrots," he said between pants.

The thundering gait drew closer.

 _Like some kind of nightmare._

Judy clamped her eyes shut and pressed her face against Nick's shoulder.

 _Asha was nothing. Fey was just a nuisance with a big gun._

Mr. White's hoarse breathing became louder and louder.

 _The sound of death was a gallop._

The gunfire behind had ceased.

 _The stench of decay._

She could feel his thundering footfalls bruising the air.

 _One more breath._

With a wailing roar he rose to his hind legs.

 _She'd miss Nick._

He raised the claw wielding the whip, building up tension in his arm.

 _Just one more kiss._

With an explosion of noise Mr. White's roaring snapped away from them, his body carried by a force of blinding light. A moment of strained silence. Screeching, Judy unable to discern whether it was Mr. White or something else. Another cacophonous crash.

Nick came to a halt and collapsed to his knees, panting and coughing. Judy rolled off of his back and onto the asphalt, breathing just as hard. Vivienne put a paw on Nick's shoulder.

Judy turned her head. She saw Finnick jump from the ajar driver's door of his van. He spat at Mr. White, and turned to the three.

"I fucking HATE traffic!"

Mr. White was pinned by the van, the concrete wall of the industrial building concaving slightly from the impact. Blood drained out of the lizard's mouth in buckets, a darker shade than the splatter behind him and adorning the front of the vehicle. He still struggled, though meekly. His already twisted body had been hit side-on, and he seemed to have been bent further by the force of the impact. He struck at the windshield, shattering it, but couldn't enact any more damage to the vehicle.

The monitor gurgled, forming half-words in his strange language. He coughed and convulsed, then gurgled again. A frowning sweep of his eyes over the group of mammals, then up to the sky, then the ground again. With a final bout of shudders, his head slowly lowered, then hung limply from his long neck, blood continuing to drain from his slack mouth.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16: Not Lost, Another to be Found

"Fi-hehe-fi-hi-nnick," Nick said through a mixture of laughing and coughing. He pressed a paw to his abdomen and felt a warm wetness. When he withdrew it, he found it stained with blood. He coughed again and spat a glob of the same crimson substance onto the asphalt, the irony aftertaste buzzing on his tongue.

"Nick!" Judy exclaimed. She put her paw on his arm as she lied beside him. He was still on all fours.

"Shit, you alright?" Finnick said as he approached, a genuinely worried look on his face.

"You're not looking too hot yourself," Nick said. Indeed, the fennec had a small stream of blood staining the fur on his head, stemming from a gash above one eye. It flowed down the side of his face.

He wiped it and glanced at his paw. "Man, this ain't nothin', I heard you got stabbed!"

"I did yesterday, or, well, this morning…technically." Nick gave a sheepish look.

"Then what the hell are you doing running around and riling up big-ass scaly fucks with your mom and girlfriend?!"

"It's a long story," Judy said before Nick could open his mouth.

"The important part is that you didn't just save us, you saved the lives of more than forty other mammals as well," Vivienne said.

"What, just by taking my frustration out on that," he turned to point, " _thing_?"

"Yup," Nick said, sitting, paw still on his seeping wound, "you just took out a top priority terrorist. That's the kind of animal even Mr. Big wouldn't screw with."

Finnick shrugged and stuffed his tiny paws in his pockets. "Van's fucked though."

Nick thought for a moment, then smirked. "Turns out, I may know of a place that could help preserve as much of it as you'd want. IF you're interested in that sort of thing."

Finnick shrugged, glancing back at the vehicle. "It was pretty shitty when we bought it."

"True. Our options are open. I'm pretty sure there'll be some kind of charity or something. I mean, you stopped the city's biggest psychopath with it, I can't imagine offers would be hard to come by."

Their ears perked up as the sound of sirens echoed again.

"Ambulances," Vivienne said gravely. "I'm not sure how many mammals he killed trying to get to us."

"Too many," Judy said. "If he killed _one_ , it'd be too many."

Nick gave her a sad smile. "Don't be so hard on yourself, Fluff, it can't be helped now. All we can do now is pick up the pieces and mourn."

"We should also frickin' flag down one of those ambulances," Finnick said, "Since I've been in a car crash and I'm the one that's the _least_ fucked up."

Vivienne sat beside Nick with a shaky breath. "Finnick is talking good sense."

"Must be that decade he's got on me," Nick winked. He turned to his left and helped Judy sit up. She leaned against him, and he couldn't help but smile warmly. It disappeared as her paw grabbed a bunch of his shirt into a vice-grip. "What's wrong, Carrots?" He whispered as Finnick started flashing his phone's flashlight at some ambulances that had stopped beside the SWAT vehicles in the distance.

"Nick I almost lost you," She whimpered, trembling and pressing into his arm. "I almost left you again, almost left you alone. I don't want you to be alone."

Nick blinked as she continued to gently sob into his sleeve. Her feelings were completely selfless, she wasn't worried about losing _him_ , she was worried about him having to continue on without her. That struck a chord somewhere, and, even through his walls and well-practiced conversational masks, he found himself tearing up. He turned towards her and pulled her into his lap, ignoring the pain. He gazed into her moisture-stained eyes for a moment, before pulling her into a soft kiss, his paws caressing her cheeks and head.

"But I'm still here, and so are you," he said, "And I'm not going anywhere soon."

Her eyes glided shut, and she nodded, the corners of her mouth angling upwards even as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Besides, what kind of two-bid charlatan would I be if I just up and died on you, after all we've been through?"

Her eyes opened to behold his smirk. "Psh," she said, attempting to remain emotional, and failing. She lightly punched his shoulder. He chuckled and drew her into a hug.

"There we go, about fuckin' time!" Finnick said. A set of headlights and blues-and-twos broke from the parked group and approached. The ambulance parked sideways to them.

"What the _hell_ is that?" the gazelle paramedic said after exiting the driver's door. His eyes were locked on the body of Mr. White.

" _That_ is what caused all the carnage over there," Vivienne said. "He's been troublesome for some time, but no longer."

The rear doors of the ambulance opened, and another mammal climbed out, a grey wolf. "Jesus," she said, then whistled. "Which one o' yous is reysponsible for tha' wark of art?" Her Northern Irish accent was rather thick.

Finnick spat a bloody glob onto the asphalt and raised his paw. The wolf barked a laugh, not out of ridicule, but of incredulity.

"Hah! You?" Her eyes traced the scene of the wreckage again, then returned to the fennec. "Well, good on ya. I'm assumin' you'll be needin' some lookin' after followin' a crash like that."

"Eh, I'm alright. You can have a look at me when you're done with them," Finnick said, hooking a thumb over his shoulder.

"In that case you should check out my mom first, she's got a pretty bad cut and –" Nick turned to where Vivienne used to be sitting, but she wasn't there. The vixen was standing before the remnants of the van and Mr. White's huge body in the distance. One paw was pressed firmly against her shoulder, blood still dripping from her limp fingers, and she had her back to them. "Mom?" Nick muttered, worry rising within him. He met Judy's concerned gaze, and she nodded.

"Make sure she's okay," Judy said, "I'll be fine."

Nick nodded and struggled to his feet. A pained whine involuntarily escaped him as he straightened, his steps and breathing labored and unsteady. Now that he was moving and the fear of death had worn off, pain was shouting at him from every corner of his body. It was a wonder he could move at all. But his concern for his mother outweighed all that.

As he approached, he caught the faint sound of gentle sobbing. His mother never cried.

"Mom?" He asked tentatively as he approached, "is…everything alright?" As he came to stand beside her, he caught sight of the streams of moisture coating her dirty cheeks.

Without warning, she whirled and pulled him into a tight hug. Nick was caught off guard, but he wrapped his own arms around her after a few seconds. She cried into his shoulder.

"Nicolas…I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For lying to you for so long. I did it to protect you, to protect _us_. I couldn't let anything happen to you."

"It's alright, Mom, really," Nick said, pulling back and smiling at her.

She stared back into his eyes for a long time. Then new tears were born. "I…can't even bear the thought of losing you. Not after Samantha. He was so close…so close…" She descended into sobbing once more, and once more she pressed into his shoulder.

He felt the pang in his heart that accompanied every mention of his baby sister. He thought he would have moved on by this point. He wondered what had inspired his mother to mention her. Did she carry the pain all the time? Nick tried to imagine it from her perspective, as he had a thousand times before, but he knew he could never know the suffering his mother went through. His was just as valid, but different. Now, Samantha's memory only permeated his steel doors on occasion; he couldn't fathom how his mother carried on so well.

"But I'm still here. _We're_ still here, and Mr. White is not. We won."

"I'm afraid of what we've opened up, Nicolas. I think it will be a long time before any of us can truly relax." She stepped back and took his paws in both of hers, wincing as she used her injured arm. "We're going to need to be on our guard now, always. There are animals that will come after you, and me." She glanced back at the other mammals. "Judy and Finnick will be included simply through association with us. Because of who your father is and…what he's done."

Nick stared at the ground, trying to take it all in. "I see now why you lied for so long. I forgive you for that, there's no need to feel ashamed for protecting your child." He locked eyes with her. "But now that we're involved, we're going to need your help. None of us know anything about the world you live in, the one we don't see."

"Well, your first task is to get yourselves patched up and return to a normal life, at least on the surface of things. Help the ZPD rebuild and continue your work for them. I'll see about helping Finnick."

"Sounds like as good a start as any. Now," he said, turning back to the ambulance, "We should see to that arm of yours." He gave one last glance at the body of Mr. White as they left. The lips were pulled back over the crimson-stained teeth, almost in a smile. Nick shuddered, hoping he would never again have to look at those bleeding eyes.

OOO

It took nearly six months for the ZPD's first precinct station to be rebuilt. Charities, volunteers, and government-sanctioned contractors all made it possible, alongside a few anonymous donations of large sums of money, delivered personally by well-dressed polar bears. In the end it was nearly identical to the station it was before the bombing. There were a few choice modifications, however: as per Bogo's order, everything about the station that could be modernized was given a thorough upgrading. Improved security measures were installed, and new protocols were issued that better covered subjects such as emergency first aid (inspired by Nick's example), response to bombings, evacuation plans, and bomb-detection. Out front, a new memorial was erected. It was simple: a piece of the former station front, steel rebar and all, a raw reminder of the destruction and loss of life. Below it, a plaque was built into its pedestal that listed the names of each officer that fell that fateful day.

Two months to the day after the bombings, TIME magazine finally published their issue dedicated to the event, with Nick and Judy's kissing image on the cover. Within the pages were numerous other photos, interviews from Chief Bogo, Nick, Judy, Clawhauser, Wolford, and some of the first responders and civilians who helped, and information on the "terrorist group that carried out the dastardly attacks." Anyone with certain knowledge could feel the editor's black-out ink covering up any important information on Mr. White.

Jack survived the encounter, having dragged himself out of the tunnels and into a waiting ambulance gurney with four broken ribs, a punctured lung, a concussion, a broken right ankle and leg, splintered clavicle, and the same knee-weakening smirk on his face he carried with him everywhere. He eventually made a full recovery, though he was more bored than ever before.

Vivienne, too, mended rather well. A few weeks after the events with Mr. White, she secretly returned the briefcase to the Animalian government, using one of their drop points that, unbeknownst to them, was known rather well by the thieves of the underworld. She hoped the gesture would discourage any attempts to tie off loose ends.

In a matter of days, Finnick was able to secure himself a new van. This time, the engine ran smoothly, and the whole vehicle was much more…tricked-out than it first appeared. Pulling some strings with a certain hyena, Nick was able to set Finnick up with a custom engine, brand new suspension, and whatever interior work he wanted done, complete with outrageous sound system. No matter how much the fennec complained and begged, Nick wouldn't let him pay for any of it.

Judy's prosthetics were replaced and upgraded to the newest model within a week. Of course, she had to go through the docking process again, the part wherein her prosthetics would be connected to her nervous system. Nick was present for it this time. He had rabbit-sized paw-shaped bruises on his arm for a long time afterwards.

The both of them were allowed to take the detectives' exam a year after the encounter with Mr. White. Both passed with flying colors and received their promotions in a quiet ceremony. Though Bogo didn't utter a word about it, he couldn't have been more proud of the two of them.

Nick found himself constantly drawn back to the events, however, mulling them over and over in his head as he tried to sleep. He would have frequent nightmares, but would awake either alone in his rebuilt bungalow, or beside Judy, who would sometimes do the waking. Quite by accident, they discovered that the newest picture from the briefcase, the one that showed Mr. White's whereabouts, was still in their possession. Nick found himself staring at the written words whenever he could, recalling an earlier time in his life when he'd snoop through his father's few belongings in his mother's attic. No pictures existed, but the image of the fox cameraman from the village massacre footage was frozen in his memory.

His father was still out there. Nick vowed to find him.

* * *

Thanks for reading boys and girls. This represents the first time I've actually ended...ANYTHING, writing-wise. This is also the biggest single thing I've ever written, so thank you for being part of the journey with me. I've learned lots of things that I'll take forward with me.

I suspect there are a few questions that remain unanswered. Feel free to message me or ask in a review, and i will either answer them...or leave them to be answered in the sequel. Yes, you heard that right, stay tuned, there's another in the works that continues off this story line. Mwahaha.

That is all for now. Keep your eyes open for a new Zootopia fanfic by me, and I will see you all again.

Cheers!


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